Ghosts Epilogue No Rest for The Weary
by hazelmom
Summary: Sara and Griss go to Lake Mead after the events in Ghosts and dramatic events unfold. Final chapter is up!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: These are the characters of CBS and co. I just like to play with them.

Spoiler: Ghosts

Against my better judgment I wrote an epilogue. I received such encouraging feedback, and was thus inspired. Be warned. I am not adept at the romantic stuff. So the saccharine is interspersed with a disturbing amount of drama. I hope you will bear with me. All good things come to those who wait.

Also, this epilogue will be coming in 5-7 chapters.

**Ghosts Epilogue AKA Griss and Sara's less than excellent adventure**

**Chapter 1**

It was this moment, walking together down the dirt road to the restaurant that brought her closest to tears. There was a breeze coming off the lake that took the edge off the heat. The dusty, yellow road was bracketed on either side by meadow: tall grass and sprays of pink, lavender, white, and blue wildflowers. Butterflies danced above the blades of grass. They didn't talk to one another, but it was a companionable silence, and they walked slow as if to savor this time.

His friend's place was beautiful; built on a bluff above Lake Mead, it had a beautiful view of the lake and the surrounding bluffs. On the drive up, Griss suggested a restaurant. Said it was only a half mile walk down from the house. Said it would be nice to do nothing on a Friday night except relax. She didn't say much of anything in reply. She wanted to follow him this weekend, get a real feel for who this man was beside her. She needed to give him a chance to be something other than the enigma she had defined him as for the last 5 years.

The beauty of the house surprised her. And she wondered about the person who lent it to Grissom. Clearly it was someone who knew him intimately enough to lend his home to him. Grissom having friends outside the lab was new idea for her. And as for knowing Grissom intimately, this was a very important topic for her just now. While she wandered the wide open spaces inside the house, Grissom handled the baggage. He was decisive; delivering her bags to one room and his to another. She smiled when she noticed this. This man would be a gentleman to the end. She knew him well enough to know that any debauchery that happened would largely have to be choreographed by her. Creating such an opportunity was definitely at the top of her agenda for the weekend.

Halfway down, Grissom stopped and crouched next to the road. Curious, she looked on over his shoulder. He picked up a caterpillar the color of new grass. He turned it over, and spent time studying it from different angles. Before she could get curious, he launched in on a brief tutorial on the life cycle of the insect. When he finished, he crouched again, and carefully placed the caterpillar on the ground. Hands on his knees, he watched intently while the insect inched away. For a moment, Sara saw a little boy who probably spent hours every day sitting in the dirt studying the lives of these tiny creatures. He wore a slightly sheepish look when he stood up as if he had somehow been able to read her mind.

The rest of the way he stayed in step with her; proximity such that they occasionally brushed up against one another. She liked the familiarity of this contact and resisted the urge to reach out and take his hand.

The restaurant was part of a lake resort, and the tables looked out on the water. Sara and Griss got a table with an unobstructed view of the sunset. He confessed to her that he had called ahead to assure that there were vegetarian entrees. She was touched by his attention to this, and was unsure of how to tell him that pan fried lake trout was what she was craving. In the end, she ordered the eggplant parmigiana so as not to disrupt his intentions.

Conversation was more natural than she imagined possible. They talked about college days, and she reflected on the first time she heard him at a seminar. He was surprised he had made that much of an impression on her, and she found that she was at a loss as to explain the substance of her initial attraction to him.

Neither one of them had enough patience to sit through dessert and coffee. He settled the bill quickly and they left. The moon shone bright and reflected the length of the lake. In the darkness, the mood of the meadow had changed. The butterflies were gone, and the crickets and their persistent song took center stage. Halfway up, Grissom slipped his hand into hers, and squeezed. She squeezed back, and held it secure for the rest of the walk.

Back at the lake house, he suggested coffee. She laughed at him, reminding him that they had just turned down that offer thirty minutes earlier at the restaurant. He blushed for a moment, and she bit her lip. She didn't want to shut him down. The awkwardness was starting to settle in again, and Sara could think of nothing to do but sit on the couch and wait for him. He finally came over and sat next to her, taking off his glasses and folding them neatly on the coffee table. He let out a sigh and turned to her, "Sara, this is not just about the physical for me. There's too much at stake here."

"Well, to be honest, I too was looking for more than just a romp in the hay." Sara couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

"I realize that, it's just that…" His voice trailed off. He seemed at a loss for words.

She shifted toward him and took his hands. "Look, Grissom. We don't get to map this out like it's a research study. The variables are impossible to measure."

"Well, it would be easier for me if they were." Grissom was essentially talking into his lap.

"Okay, here it is. Step by step. You have a fairly hot female sitting next to you right now. This female is interested in a little something something. In fact, she would like to start by nibbling on this area right here." Sara reached over and started stroking an area right below his right earlobe. "This females is reacting to your pheromones as is her nature. So Dr. Grissom, what would be a naturally occurring counter-reaction on the part of the male subject?"

Grissom leaned into the fingers stroking his neck. "Well, if this female happens to be the very beautiful Sara Sidle, then the male is naturally excited, but a little intimidated."

"So he runs away?" Her fingers stopped.

He reached up and put his hand over hers. "No, he approaches carefully as he knows that this is a very important opportunity."

"Not too carefully though or the female could misinterpret this as disinterest leaving the female to wonder if she holds no attraction for him or suggesting that she needs to introduce him to some gay friends she knew in grad school."

"Ahh, I see. The male needs to make a definitive move or the female will come to some rather erroneous conclusions." Grissom reached across her collarbone brushing it softly. Then he slid his hand under the strap of her blouse, and slowly pushed it until it slid off her shoulder. Sara shivered in response. His hand then traveled back along her collarbone until he found the strap closest to him. He pulled that down, and then reached over and kissed her bare shoulder. He stopped long enough to whisper softly in her ear, "So the male must become more expressive regarding his intentions."

Sara shifted and lay back on the couch pulling him in on top of her. He buried himself in her neck, and she moaned. Her hands found his hair, and she played with his curls. He lifted his head and looked at her. His curls stuck out at all angles, and she laughed. His hand hurriedly worked to tame the wild waves. "Leave me some dignity, Sara. You have no idea what it takes in the morning to make this head presentable."

"You're a hair queen. Gil Grissom is a hair queen. People would pay to know this about you."

He pulled himself up to her face and silenced her with his lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and began kissing him deeply. He began to tug her blouse down off her breasts. Her body tensed in anticipation of his touch. A sharp rapping on the door interrupted the interlude. Startled, Sara pushed him off her, Grissom landed on the floor, and looked up to find her wrestling with the straps on her blouse. Years of fantasying about her and her body had finally come to life for him, and here it was being snatched away in an instant.

The rapping on the door was insistent. "Who is that?" Sara whispered. He shrugged and pulled himself to his feet, taking a second to do up the last two buttons on his collar.

"Gil are you in there? I see your vehicle out here." Came a voice from outside. Grissom opened the door to an older man who came stumbling over the doorway.

"What were you up to, anyway?" The man glared at Grissom, and then noticed that his hair had a particularly wild look. "Looking good, Gil. Going to take some time to get used to this new 'do though."

The man stopped short when he saw Sara busily brushing her fingers through her hair on the couch. Her blouse lay on her shoulders at an odd angle. He turned back to Grissom. "You old dog. I should have known what you were up to when you said you were bringing a friend."

Grissom wrinkled up his face as if encountering a bad smell. "Ah, Roland, this is a…colleague of mine, Sara Sidle. We work together at the crime lab."

"Hell, and here I thought you were just babysitting."

Grissom's face reddened. The old man saw him and laughed. "Don't pay any attention to me. You get older, and you say the first thing that comes into your head. Worst part of all is that you just don't seem to care."

"Ah, Sara," Grissom gestured at the man. "This is Roland Worthington. We are in his house. He's a retired sheriff for Clark County. I met him when I first came to Vegas."

The man reached over and shook Sara's hand. "Nice to meet you. Sorry for the teasing. Hard to resist sometimes when it comes to the indomitable Gil Grissom."

Sara smiled back at him. "Yeah, I sort of know what you mean."

"Yes, well I am sure the two of you can compare notes on that later. In the meantime…"

"Shit! You distracted me. I got an emergency. Was going to take you along…before I knew that you were, ah, occupied. But, um…"

"What is it, Roland?"

"Rained hard last night in the mountains twenty miles east of here." Worthington was pulling flashlights out of a closet near the back door.

"I don't understand." Sara's brow furled.

Grissom turned to her. "It rains hard there, and then the water comes down the mountain into local streams, can set things up for some pretty serious flash flooding."

"Yeah, and the hard part is that you never see it coming. Could be sunny here, and then, all of a sudden, a creek bed becomes a powerful river." Worthington talked while sorting through boots.

"Do you need us to evacuate, Roland?"

"No, we're going to be fine. But a car got swept in about three miles from here. A mom and kids. We don't know more. The creek winds around about a half mile north of here. Got to get up there, and see if I can find them. Law enforcement has people already, but you need as many bodies as possible to help in the search. Right now, we are all spread out."

Sara disappeared into a bedroom. Grissom turned to Roland. "We're happy to help."

"Sorry to screw up your time off. I know how hard you work."

"Not a problem." Grissom said as Sara appeared at the doorway of her bedroom wearing jeans, a flannel shirt, and hiking boots.

"I'm ready." She went over to help Roland organize the gear he had scattered on the floor around him. The man just watched her for a moment. "Sure, you don't want to think about it." She shook her head, grabbed a flashlight, and stuffed a couple of flares into her back pockets. Grissom smiled as he watched her, and the endless energy that seemed to emanate from her. He grabbed some gear for himself and followed the two of them out the door.

………………………………..................................................................................................................

TBC


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: I am borrowing characters that are not mine from the esteemed CBS and company.

Spoilers: Ghosts

Yes the drama continues. The epilogue is starting to look like a short sequel. For those of you who take the time to feedback, I want to extend my appreciation. You are all the reason I am willing to devote this much time to this. Enjoy!

Sheila

No Rest For The Weary

Chapter 2

The hills above the house were sandy and full of brush, very unlike the meadows they passed closer to the lake. Even with flashlights it was hard to see the ground ahead of her, and Sara found that she was continually stumbling over rocks and unexpected contours in the landscape. Worthington kept a pretty brisk pace, and it was clear that he knew the land well. At the top of the third ridge, he pointed down, and Grissom and Sara could see the swirling waters of the flooded creek.

"We'll stay on this side, no more than 50 yards from one another. Keep your lights on any tree branches or other objects floating by." He yelled, gesturing for them to spread out along the banks. Sara ran ahead and took point. Grissom stayed in the middle. Worthington stopped when the cell phone in his belt started ringing.

Sara walked along the bank, flashing her light on anything moving. The water roared like a freight train, and she found that she couldn't hear Grissom behind her. She stopped every few minutes to get a fix on him visually, and then she would move on. She stumbled over tree branches, and once tripped and almost slid into the raging waters. Her shirt and jeans were streaked with mud, and twigs were tangled in her hair. Every couple of minutes, she was sure she could see something, but as she got closer, it was always a tree branch or a rock. She slipped in the sandy soil on a hill, and ended rolling down it, her knee landing on against a stump at the bottom. For a moment, she just rocked back and forth, grimacing against the pain radiating from her leg. Then she heard rustling, and there was Grissom sliding down after her.

"Hey. You okay?" He yelled as he slid down beside her.

"Yeah, just a sore knee. I'm on my way back up."

"Want me to look at it?"

"You're an expert on bugs, not bones, remember." She took his proffered arm and struggled to her feet. A sharp pain radiated up her leg, but she had enough mobility to know that it wasn't broken. She let him pull her back up the hill. At the top, she pushed him away, "You go ahead, I'll bring up the rear."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, let's find 'em, okay?"

Before Grissom could move in front, a beam of light settled on them, and Roland was there. "I got news. They found the mother and the baby about a mile back."

"They okay?"

The old man shook his head slowly. "It leaves us one kid, a girl, maybe 7or 8 years old. We only have half a mile separating us and the next group of searchers. So we go slow. Close the gap. Hear me?"

Grissom nodded. Worthington looked at Sara who was leaning against a boulder elevating her right leg. "Did you fall?"

She nodded.

"Can you make it? Need help?"

"I can do it. Two of you go on ahead. I'll just go a little slower."

She waved them on and waited a moment until the throbbing slowed. Then she returned to the search. This time she went very slow, no longer working on an adrenaline rush, she was meticulous in her attention to the water. It took another half hour, but she spotted it. A hand clutching a tree branch. She zeroed in and found a face, pale in the light of the beam. She turned around and yelled into the darkness. The thunderous sounds of water drowned her cries. She started to stumble up the hill, then realized she couldn't trust that the child would still be there when she returned. So she pulled a flare from her back pocket. She remembered that she had shoved a lighter into her front pocket, and then quickly lit the flare. She hoped it would be enough. She slid down the bank toward the creek ignoring the pain shooting out of her knee. It took her a minute before she could find the tiny face again. She started yelling for the child, hoping for a reaction, but got none. The only solace she took was from the fact that the child was still gripping the tree branch. She eased her way into the creek up to her thighs, and held tightly to some roots protruding out of the sandy bank. The water was ice cold. She reached out as best she could but was still several feet away from the child. The pull of the water was tremendous, and it was all she could do to pull herself back to the edge. She looked up the hill worriedly, but still saw no sign of help. Then she trained her beam on the child. It looked to her like her grip was loosening on the branch. She suspected that the little girl had probably slipped into unconsciousness. Sara knew that her only option was to swim out there, and grab her. She would hold the girl and the branch until help came. She stepped out into the water, and felt fear rise up in her throat as the power of the rushing water enveloped her. She launched herself against the current with as much strength as she could muster. But the water was wicked, and she quickly found herself tumbling head over heels, unable to break surface. The fear of drowning overwhelmed her, and she clawed around for something to grab. She found a rock, and her head broke surface long enough for her to breath, but the rock was too smooth, and she was again tumbling along the current. This time she was able to keep her head above water, and she took advantage of some brush growing out of the bank. She reached out and grabbed desperately. The water pulled at the rest of her, but her arms stayed strong. She tried to place the girl's location, and figured her to still be several yards upstream. She looked for ways to drag herself back against the current, but it quickly become apparent that this would be a fruitless effort.

Light caught her eye, and she found beams pointed in her direction. They were on the bank shouting at her. She waved back at them and pointed in the girl's direction. Grissom threw his beam over there, and was soon pointing out the girl to Worthington. The old man pulled the phone off his belt, and started barking orders into it.

In a flash, she saw it. The girl let go of the branch. For a moment the water swallowed her, and then she bounced up again. She was coming toward Sara rapidly. Sara could think to do nothing more than to let go of the bank and reach for her. She grabbed an arm, and pulled her in tightly. Then the two of them began swirling down the creek together. Surprisingly, she could hear Grissom shouting at her. She even glimpsed him running along the bank, keeping his light trained on her. She turned her attention to where the water was pulling them. There was a sharp bend in the creek, and she looked for something to grab when the water slowed. But the curve was empty of vegetation and branches. She grabbed clumsily at rocks, but could hold nothing. The water whipped them around, and she struggled to keep herself and the child afloat.

The water wore on her. It felt like she had been working for hours instead of the three to five minutes, she had been in. She could see that she needed to find relief soon or she and the child would be lost. Another opportunity came as a low lying tree stretched out over the creek, its branches reaching into the water. She pushed with all of her energy, and was surprised when her foot made contact with a rock underwater. The momentum sent the two of them spinning toward the tree. She grabbed a branch and held tightly. It bent against the weight of its burden, but held. She propped the child up higher onto her shoulder, and then closed her eyes to pray.

……………………………….................................................................................................

Grissom couldn't keep her in his sights. One or two heads would bob up, and then disappear. Running and trying to keep his flashlight trained on the water was almost impossible. The creek took a turn, and he lost them completely. He ran up a hill hoping to catch them on the other side. His foot hit a rock, and he found himself falling hard onto the ground. His flashlight had landed somewhere in the bushes to his right. He scrambled to his feet, and started digging through the brush. For a moment, he panicked; should he look for the light or chase after Sara? Could he find Sara without the light? Then his hand hit cold metal, he grabbed for it, and began scrambling down the hill. It was hard to develop a coherent plan. Walking slowly would give him more opportunity to find, but moving fast would allow him to cover more ground. He needed Grissom the scientist but the girl with the deep, brown eyes had stolen that from him. He settled on moving stealthily along the bank, taking time to shine the beam back and forth along the creek. He turned his head and wished for help. Worthington was nowhere in sight, and he had no cell phone with him to call anyone. Turning back for help was more than he could risk right now.

It took him several minutes of searching before he found her. She was only 50 or so yards from the place where he last saw her. She was clinging to a branch of a tree bent over the stream. He could see that she had the child hiked up over her shoulder. He started shouting her name. It took some effort before she finally turned her head and spotted him. He could see her mouth open, but couldn't make out the words. Sliding down the bank, he was able to maneuver it so that he was only about ten feet away from her position. He shouted her name again and this time, he could make out her words. "You need to hurry Griss, I can't hold on much longer."

"I'm here. It's okay." He eased himself into the cold water, and was shocked at the strength of the current. It felt like a living thing pulling at him. He reached for a tree branch and pulled himself further out into the creek. There was a 4-5 foot stretch between his branch and Sara's. He looked for a way to stretch it, but couldn't quite reach her even when she extended an arm in his direction. He knew his only option was to swim across, and so he positioned himself to launch at the right angle. Her face was intent on his, hair wet, strands weaving across her face. Her lips had a faintly blue tint. He jumped and fought the current with everything he had. She reached out and he grabbed her hand. With the other hand, he grabbed at her branch. It shook mightily, and, for a moment, he worried that it would tear.

"Take her." Sara eased the child off her shoulder, and Grissom pulled her up over his. With her burden gone, Sara relaxed and held the branch with both hands.

"Okay, you hold my arm. We're getting out of this together."

She shook her head.

"Sara?"

"I am too tired. And you can't pull both of us. Take her. I think you are going to have to come back for me."

"No, Sara. I'm not leaving you." His grip on her tightened.

"Great. So we just exhaust ourselves and die." Her eyes had a slightly vacant look.

"Sara, please. We go together." He pulled her to him, his beard resting on her cheek.

"I can't feel my legs anymore. I can't do it." Her voice sent shivers through him.

He helped her get a tighter hold on the branch. "I get her to the bank, and then I come back for you. Understood?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Believe me."

"Promise me." He squeezed her body to his.

"I promise."

He stared at her for another minute, and then she shook her head. "You have to let go now, Gil. You need to get her out of here."

He eased off her, and positioned himself for the leap back to the branch that would pull him to shore. He secured the girl with one arm, and launched himself across. He felt the branch behind him spasm, and hoped that Sara was holding tight. Looking back was not an option. He gritted his teeth, and reached for the branch, aware that his legs were slipping away under him. A bright flash of light stun his eyes, and an arm reached out and grabbed his shoulder. More arms appeared, and he let them pull him onto the bank. The girl was snatched from him. He rolled over on his back and sat up. The enormity of effort involved in the last five minutes of his life left him lightheaded. At first, he thought his eyes weren't focusing, but then he realized that it was gone. Sara's branch was gone, and so was Sara.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

TBC


	3. chapter 3

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS television.

Spoiler: Ghosts

Chapter a day until it's done if all goes right. This is a tough one to figure out. I climbed into it, and now I gotta figure a way out. Appreciate you all coming along for the ride. Really appreciate your feedback.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 3**

He tried to scramble back into the creek, but arms held him back. Worthington spoke into his ear, "I got my best guys on it, Gil."

Grissom struggled out of his grip.

"Gil, you don't have the strength left. The water sucks it out of you in seconds. Besides, I need you to work on the girl."

Grissom pulled himself to his feet. "I'm not a medic."

"The EMT guys are still about ten minutes out. You're the best she's got."

Worthington steered him over to the child. "I'm going to look for your girl. Okay?" The old man disappeared into the darkness. Grissom kneeled next to the girl, and placed his ear to her chest. Then he picked up her wrist, and felt for a pulse. He thought he felt something weak. He turned her head and shoulders to the side, and positioned his palm on her back. Firmly and gently, he hit her back several times. All of a sudden, a choke erupted, and she threw up onto the ground. He kept her positioned this way until she was able to clear her throat of mucus. Small blue eyes flickered open, and her small body began to shake uncontrollably. She was in shock and he could think of nothing but to pull her into his lap, and hold her tightly, massaging her limbs with his arms. She began to whimper, and he talked softly to her. A small girl, an alien really to the detached scientist, and he had no idea what he was actually saying to her. Soon, they would come and take her, wrap her in blankets, properly care for her injuries. She would be dry and warm when they told her that her mother and baby brother were gone. So he talked to her and rocked her until EMT's came running over the hill, and in his head, he prayed for the woman who gave this child back her life.

………………………………..................................................................................................................

As he had imagined, the EMT's swept her out of his arms, and onto a stretcher. He pulled himself to his feet and watched as they began working on her. For a moment, he caught her eye, and he smiled. One side of her mouth twitched as if to grin back, but then a paramedic shifted and he lost sight of her face. Knowing she was in good hands, he turned and ran off into the darkness. He used the beams of light in the distance to navigate, and soon he found the group of searchers. He found Roland barking into his cell phone as several men and women combed the banks on either side of the creek.

"Roland!" he yelled.

The old man snapped his phone closed, and turned to Grissom. He shook his head, and turned back to the creek. Grissom looked away and swore under his breath.

"I need a flashlight, Roland."

The old man dug one out of his coat. "The creek forks up about twenty yards from here. Can't tell which way she went. There's lots of brush. We're doing everything we can."

Grissom nodded, and trotted off in to join the search. It was hard to believe that just one hour ago, he was sitting on a couch next to Sara trying to navigate the passions and defenses that were so intertwined between the two of them. Fear of relationships and love had left him paralyzed for so long, and now he longed for all of those moments again. He understood now that he never really knew fear until the moment that he lost sight of Sara. There was an ache present in his chest every time he took a breath, and he was certain that it wasn't a result of any sort of physical injury.

Grissom went ahead of the group to search. He wanted to be alone, away from others if he found her first. He took his time, already a veteran of how difficult it was to spot someone in the dark water if the beam passed over too quickly. He looked carefully around tree branches and other obstacles she could grab. The calls and directions of other searchers didn't concern, but he kept his ears open in case some definitive was said.

Time passed like this for hours. The searchers rotated, met, and regrouped, but he didn't join them. He just continued his meticulous search of the creek. Already the roar of water was beginning to die down. In another twelve hours, the creek could be a gentle stream again, but only for those not present on this night.

Worthington stopped him twice. Told him the girl was doing well, tried to offer him some coffee. The second time he tried to convince Grissom to stop and let others take over. Grissom didn't even acknowledge that suggestion.

Another voice stopped him close to dawn. He turned to find Brass standing behind him in jeans and a jacket. He blinked his surprise, and, for one exhausted moment, wandered if the surreal nature of his presence signaled that this night was all a dream. But Brass' grim face left him in no doubt of the reality of his present circumstances.

"It's going to be light in an hour."

"The light will help us. Worthington called me a couple of hours ago."

Grissom nodded. "You're probably wondering what we were doing up here."

"Nope."

"I don't really understand why she let go. She promised me she wouldn't."

"You been in those wet clothes all night?"

Ignoring him, Grissom paced back and forth. "That's not the truth. You want to know the truth? I let go. I was the one to let go. She convinced me, but I'm the one that let go."

"Worthington said that you had to get the little girl out of the water. He said the branch tore. There was nothing you could do."

"The branch broke because I pushed off of it. She should have yelled. I would have turned around for her."

"And then I would be standing here while searchers were looking for Sara, you, and a seven year old girl."

"Do you think she knew that? Do you think that's why she didn't say anything?"

"I don't know, Gil. How 'bout I get you a coat, maybe a dry shirt."

Grissom wandered away, and turned his beam back on the water. Brass let out a sigh, and pulled out his flashlight to join him. His focus astounded Brass. Exhausted and cold, he still searched with a singular intensity. Brass followed him closely, watching Grissom as much as he was looking for Sara.

Pink appeared on the horizon. The dark of night was slowly replaced with the soft light of dawn. With it the enormity of the search effort was revealed. A command center was set up at the top of a hill, and volunteers were gathering in groups. Grissom was oblivious to all of it. The water had receded significantly already, and he ventured in about knee deep, training his light under trees, bushes, and branches sticking out of the water.

Brass didn't see her right away, but he saw his friend stiffen and freeze. He waded out to where Grissom was standing. Grissom pointed with his light. Under a tree on the far side of the creek, there was something dark and round sticking out of the water. It was hard to see more. But near it, there was a thin, white arm draped over a log. Grissom called to her, but there was no reply. He started to wade out, but Brass grabbed him. "It's still dangerous."

"I'm going." Grissom kept moving. Brass held his arm and followed him out. The water crashed against them, but it wasn't the same wild force of four hours previous. Grissom slipped once, but Brass anchored himself on rocks and held onto him. Grissom found purchase again, and waded through. He reached the branches and pulled himself under them. She lay half in the water, her face drained of color, lips a deep blue. A body. A corpse. The stuff of his life's work. The only real option he had considered once the hours had ticked away. It took him a few minutes to untangle her from the debris that had collected around her. Finally he pulled her free, and held her in his arms. Brass was there to help him balance her as they navigated back across the swift current. Neither one of them said a word as they pulled her through water. Climbing out of the water, she became deadweight for him. Brass took her legs and helped him carry her up the hill. Grissom found a sandy spot and put her down gently. He dropped down beside her. He reached out and held her hand. It was cold and stiff. He wondered about how soon rigor would set in once she was out of the water. Soon the hand would become brittle like a claw, and she would cease to be Sara. The reality of it hit him, and he dropped his head and groaned.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

TBC


	4. chapter 4

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, and I don't mean no harm.

Spoiler: Ghosts

That was mean of me to scare you like that. It was really just too tempting though. I come home at night and can't wait to read feedback. That stuff keeps me writing

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 4**

Brass felt a pain in the pit of his stomach, and he turned away for a moment to give Gil time alone with her. As he gazed out on the morning landscape, he thought about the brown eyed girl who wouldn't quit. He had liked the feisty beanpole of a CSI from the minute he met her, poor people skills be damned. The thought of returning to a lab without her manic energy brought a stinging moisture to his eyes. He wiped it away hastily, and turned back to his friends. Grissom hadn't moved, sitting next to her, holding her hand. Feeling useless, Brass willed himself to be the homicide detective again, and follow procedure. So he knelt gently on the other side of her, and picked up her wrist. Holding firmly, he concentrated. Her skin was surprising pliable, and he was shocked to find that if he pressed tightly, he felt warmth. His brows shot up. The beating was faint, but it was real. He rocked back on his heels, and jumped up. "We need medics!" he shouted to the far hill that held the command center. Faces turned to his direction, and Brass waved them other. People began running down the hill.

Brass turned back to her. "Gil, come on, man. She's alive. There's a pulse."

Grissom looked up with a confused expression on his face. "She's cold, stiff, blue."

"She's hypothermic, Gil, not dead." Brass was rubbing her arms, trying to stimulate circulation.

Grissom leaned over her face and opened her mouth. He reached down and breathed hard into her mouth. He pulled back and watched, but got no response. So he leaned in, and continued the mouth to mouth recessutation. Still, she didn't respond. He put his fingers against her carotid, and held his breath. It was faint, and at first he worried he was imagining it until it dawned on him that he was actually feeling the beat of her heart. "Sara, honey, come on." he said into her ear. "Come on, Sara. Please. I need you here." Brass sucked in a breath, and got back to his feet. He started yelling at the approaching workers to hurry.

Grissom returned to breathing in her mouth. On the third breath in, she heaved in great amounts of air as if breaking surface in water. Her head shot up, knocking against Grissom's face. A panicked look was in her eyes. She breathed in and out rapidly, and Grissom was at her ear, talking softly, trying to calm her before she hyperventilated. He held her face, stroking her hair until her breathing slowed.

Then people were there, and arms gently but firmly pulled him away from her while others stepped in and began to work on her. Grissom tried to get back in there, but Brass held his arm firmly. "Let them do what they do. We're only in the way."

Worthington was there, and slapped Grissom on the back, a big grin lighting up his wizened face. "Good news. Nothing like it. She is a soldier. No doubt about it."

"I see dead bodies almost every day of my life, and I was so sure." Grissom said, his voice betraying his shock.

Brass smiled. "You are dead tired, Gil. And all of us were imagining only one scenario. I'm just as surprised as you are."

"Never so happy to be wrong in my entire life." Grissom lowered his head, and rubbed at his eyes vigorously.

Brass looked over at Worthington and winked.

"She must be the one." said Roland.

"Looks like it to me."

"Grissom is finally going to be domesticated."

"Well, don't invest in the wedding china quite yet, Roland. Gil here has a tendency to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"No fooling." Roland shook his head.

"Yup. This girl's been after him for years. And they don't come any more quality than Sara Sidle. But our buddy here wouldn't give her the time of day."

"Gil's been sniffing the formaldehyde again."

"Hey, that theory is just as good as any other. Says he's too old for her. Says he'd ruin her life."

"Right, of course, he will. Why's that stopping him? Hell, I'd be happy to ruin the life of a girl like that any day of the week."

"Which is what I am saying."

"You should be schooling this boy, Jim. I think he's afraid of girls, doesn't know what to do with them."

"Whenever I try, he just tells me to dry up. Has no respect for the more sophisticated members of his species."

"That's gender, Jim. Not species." Grissom's eyes didn't leave the paramedics working on Sara, but the corners of his mouth were twitching.

"Oooh, so the professor finally weighs in."

Grissom turned his head for a moment. "You have to admit I'm not much of a catch."

Brass whistled low and Worthington burst out with a hearty laugh. "You don't get it my boy. None of us are much of a catch. We're pigs. We smell, make loud noises, we're selfish, and…"

"Insensitive." Brass finished.

"But when a good woman shows up and wants to sign on for a tour, you gotta just shut up and let her take you by the hand."

"I'm getting this from two divorced guys," Grissom said, an eyebrow raised in their direction.

"Exactly, we know from experience. Unfortunately, our women got wise to the whole 'men are pigs' thing." Brass nodded in agreement with Worthington.

Worthington threw his arm around Grissom's shoulders. "Stick with us. We're going to educate you in the ways of love."

Brass laughed at the expression of discomfort growing on Gil Grissom's face.

………………………………...................................................................................................................

The clinic was small, bright, and crowded. Sara blinked against the white light glaring down at her. An IV hung on a stand to her left. There were people in the room having conversations. She lay still trying to remember what could have brought her to this moment. The aching of her muscles brought her memories of running, falling, thrashing, choking, grasping, and holding on past the point of sore and numb muscles. The fear woke in her gut and Sara squeezed her eyes tight. The images rushed at her like the punishing water of the creek. She remembered the branches that passed her flailing arms and the rocks that slammed into her body. She remembered yelling and yelling, but hearing nothing in response but the deadly thunder of water. And there was the numbing exhaustion that enveloped her so completely. She remembered his hand gripping hers, she remembered their conversation, the promise, and then letting go. When the branch snapped, she didn't say anything to him. He would never have made it to her, and then there was the child. The cold, blue child who lay over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Grissom couldn't take both of them. And so the lifeless child came first. Getting the child on dry land was the point of this whole terrifying exercise. So she turned to face the monster on her own. The torn branch became useless baggage as it was too small to support her weight. Several opportunities for anchor came and went, but her numb arms couldn't hold anything, and she wondered if it even mattered anymore. The exhaustion had taken over her fear. She was sliding beneath the water when the creek took a sharp turn and beached her in a tangle of branches. She remembered laying there waiting for the water to take her again. And then nothing more.

A familiar voice broke her thoughts, and she leaned up on her elbows. Faces turned in her direction, and she saw Jim Brass grinning down at her.

"Hey Sunshine! How you doing?"

"Jim? How did you get here?"

"You know me. I always crash parties."

She smiled.

"Hey, maybe you should be resting." He urged her to lay back.

"Where's…Grissom?"

"He's, uh, talking to the father of the little girl you pulled out of the water."

Sara's face fell. "I wish we would have gotten there sooner. I tried everything I could…Please tell her father that."

Brass laughed. "You're just like the other one. So used to seeing dead bodies that you don't know a live one when you have one right in your hands."

"What?"

"Girl's okay. Grissom revived her. She's sitting in her dad's lap right now."

"You're kidding me?"

"Wouldn't do that to you, darling. You saved a little girl today."

She was back on her elbows, red growing on her freckled cheeks. She blinked back tears. This time he let her sit up so he could more easily pull her into a hug. Over his shoulder she saw him navigating his way through the crowd to get to her. His salted hair was matted, and his eyes were tired, head listing a little to one side. His clothes looked heavy on him. She smiled, and he found one for her. Brass let go of her when he saw her attention focused else. Grissom stepped beside Brass and leaned over. "You look very beautiful," he whispered.

"Thanks!" said a smiling Brass.

"Shut up, Jim."

She looked into his eyes. "Get me out of here, Griss. Okay?"

"Just what I was thinking."

"And then we'll sleep for three days."

"An offer I can't refuse."

"Hell, if the two of you keep going on like this, I'm going to be able to stop buying all those Harlequin romances. I can hang around with you and take notes" said Brass. Grissom didn't even bother to throw him a glare, and so Brass packed up all his giddy relief and wandered away, giving them a little time to contemplate living again.

………………………………...................................................................................................................


	5. chapter 5

Spoiler: Ghosts

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Thanks for all who are still along for the ride. I appreciate your thoughts so much. Still having trouble with the ending, but for now, it's still a chapter a day. Shout out to Scully as Trinity for wonderful encouragement, and Laura Katharine whose story, Great Escape, I really enjoyed. I was thrilled to find that you like mine.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 5**

"Now Gil, you know I don't use this monstrosity. It's the ex-wife's. I caretake it 'cause she's never here." Worthington was leading them back into the house. He held a bag of groceries that he dropped on the counter. Sara was pale and weak, but was walking on her own.

"We actually only have one more night. You didn't need to get so much food." Grissom said.

"Can you believe that she made me build this money pit? $900,000 of the inheritance her sister left her went into this house. Then she wakes up one day, and says that she doesn't like it. Says she thought she would like being on Lake Mead, but really she would have preferred we had built on the ocean. I told her to pretend it was an ocean. Said I'd take a couple of gallons of salt down to the dock and dump it in. After that, things went downhill like a beginner on the bunny slope." Roland was stuffing items into the refrigerator.

"Why don't you sell?"

Worthington shrugged. "She likes to come sometimes, and when she does that, it almost feels like she never left."

Grissom looked at Sara. She chuckled quietly as she eased herself onto a couch.

Brass came through the door with a cell phone plastered to his ear. "Okay, Catherine, let me try this again. I heard from Gil. He's at Lake Mead and he has some sort of flu. Can't make it in for the next two nights after tonight…'Cause, the doctor said it would take that long…And Sara who is definitely not at Lake Mead, fell and hurt her knee. And her doctor said she couldn't come for the next two nights after tonight as well…I don't why they both called me. Maybe they found me to be a trusting and supportive colleague…I'm not lying to you!…You can not tell by the tone of my voice, I am too much of a chameleon for that…Now, you're laughing at me…I will not tell anybody to have a good time together….'Cause it would be confusing to say that to two people are most definitely not even in the same part of the state at the same time!…I am not a bad liar, Catherine. I am actually quite practiced at the art of deception…So, will you cover?…Ecklie, Smecklie. Tell Mr. Hair Club For Men that they both have sick time to burn, and they are burning it in different parts of the state of Nevada together. I mean, not together. Understand?…Yes, I am on my way back…Well, you can buy me all the lunches you want, but I won't have a single interesting piece of gossip to tell you…All right, good-bye to you too."

Brass snapped his phone shut and turned to his friends. "I think that went well. Don't you?"

Glaring at him, Grissom just shook his head and walked away down the hall.

"What?" Brass said with his hands in the air. Sara started laughing which soon turned to coughing. Worthington brought over a glass of water and a prescription bottle.

"I don't have pneumonia."

"Well, the doctor wants you to take the antibiotics just in case. There may be some fluid still sitting in your lungs."

Sara took her medicine, and lay back on the couch. Brass gave Worthington a pointed look.

"I think it's about time we let these folks rest. What do you say, Jim? We can head over to my place, and pull out the good scotch."

"Hell, is that the best offer on the table?"

"Okay, scotch, a steak dinner at the lodge, a good night's sleep, and some early morning fishing before you head back to Vegas."

"All right, you got me, Roland." Brass leaned over the back of the couch and kissed the top of Sara's head. "Don't you worry about a thing, honey. I'm gong to take care of everything at the lab. You just rest up."

She reached an arm up and clasped his. "Thanks…for everything."

"Hey Gil, we're leaving." Roland called down the hall. Grissom appeared and handled his good-byes which included specific instructions for Brass to refrain from any further workplace deception. He walked them out and then came back to regard the exhausted woman on the couch. She reached up a hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Time for bed."

He led her down the hall where a bed was made up and curtains drawn. She crawled in, and curled up. He shut off the light and slowly closed the door.

"Hey Grissom, where you going?"

He opened the door and smiled at her. "Get some sleep."

"Come here."

He walked over and perched on her bed. "What do you need?"

She reached over and took his hand. "Stay."

"You need rest."

"I know. Let's rest."

"I don't know.."

"I'm going to be kind of a baby about this. I don't want to be here alone. Please." She squeezed his hand.

"You're a little crazy, Sara, to want this...to want me."

She laughed into a pillow. "Sue me, Grissom."

"Okay, let me get out of these clothes…I mean, and, ah, put on other…more appropriate things."

Her throaty laughter echoed down the hall as he went off in search of his bag. When he returned, she was sleeping. He slipped in beside her, careful not to disturb her. He waited for it to feel uncomfortable, but it didn't happen. He liked being this close to her, smelling her hair. He had always thought she smelled like something vaguely familiar, but he could never quite place it. Now it reminded him a little of a pina colada, and he grinned at the thought. She shifted and a bare arm swung his direction. He let it fall across his chest. Carefully, he lay his arm on top of hers, and closed his eyes. For a long time, he lay there, feeling the soft weight of her arm on his chest, breathing in and out, feeling her skin on his.

………………………………......................................................................................................................

It was dark when he woke. She was thrashing next to him, groaning and whimpering. At first, he thought she was awake, but after watching her, he could see that she was in her dreams. He resisted an urge to wake her. He couldn't remember if it was helpful or traumatizing to interrupt a nightmare. Words were gibberish at first, but certain words jumped out clear: 'Please!', 'Too tired', and then calmly, ' You have to let go now, Gil'. He breathed in sharply. He remembered her saying it, calling him Gil for the first time ever. It didn't strike him then, but it hit him now. She knew that she wasn't going to make it when she said that. She was saying good-bye to him. He felt certain of it as if she had said those very words.

Decisively, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Sara," he whispered in her ear. "I'm not letting go. I'm here. Hold on, honey." She struggled briefly, and then calmed. Her whimpers turned into the deep breathing of a restful sleep. Grissom kept his promise and he held her close, nestling his head against her neck, again breathing in the faint scent of pineapple and coconut.

……………………………….....................................................................................................................

At first, Sara stayed still for a long time, savoring the sensuality of his body around hers. She knew he was still fast asleep as evidenced by some rather loud snoring. But as it was with the new and the exciting, she found even this to be endearing. Rays of sun broke through tiny openings around the drawn curtains. She remembered that they had gone to bed in the afternoon, and suspected that they had slept through to the next day. She shifted slightly trying not to disturb him, and then carefully slid out of bed. The shower she took yesterday wasn't enough to take away the faint must of wet that she felt still clinging to her body. She grabbed some clothes and tiptoed out of the room.

It felt good to feel water that was massaging her rather than punishing her. She ended up taking a long shower, relaxing into the warm jets splashing on her skin. She was toweling off when she heard the distinct ring of her cell. She threw on a shirt and shorts, and trotted out to the kitchen. Caller id on her cell told her that Nicky called. She hesitated to call him back, being circumspect was not something she was good at, but ignoring the call would leave him even more worried. She hit call return and waited, "Hey Nicky, it's me…I'm okay…I know, I almost never take time, but after that whole nightmare with Viktor, I decided it was time to take care of myself…my leg?…Oh, yeah, that leg, ah, it's doing fine. Going to be shipshape in a couple of days…Yes, I am elevating it, and icing it…Yeah, just sitting here on the couch…Oh, you went to my apartment…well, the truth is that I am not at home. I am at…a friend's. This all happened at a friend's…Oh, that's sweet, Nick, but I don't need anyone to come get me…Grissom's sick too? You don't say…At lake Mead, huh?…No, I don't know why he'd be up there…No, haven't, ah, talked to him. Look Nicky, what's with the 3rd degree? I am sitting on a couch at a friend's house with my leg in the air. Grissom is not, I repeat, not sitting next to me…I don't sound like myself? Well, maybe it's because, ah, I don't know. Just content yourself with the idea that I'm okay, I'm happy, and that I will be in soon to clean up after the mess that the swing shift always leaves…I'm not agitated!…Good plan, Nicky. Sara does need some space….And after the incident with Viktor you thought that I…Oh, Nick, no no. I promise. A thousand times I promise. I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you would think that….I know it was recent, but in many ways it feels like so long ago. Please trust me on this. I am not doing anything crazy or dangerous…It's okay, you call whenever you need….Take care of yourself. Wear your vest…I know but I saw you not wear it last week when the temperature got into the 90's. So just know that going to a new shift doesn't mean that I'm not keeping on an eye on you….Say hi to everyone, okay?…Bye to you too."

Sara dropped back into the cushions of the couch. Lying to Nick was hard, and didn't really feel at all justified considering the current situation especially since crazy and dangerous were the two words that best described the last 48 hours. Behind her, she heard a door close, and then a shower turn on. She got and padded into the kitchen trying to decide what to feed a bug man for breakfast.

………………………………..................................................................................................................


	6. chapter 6

Spoiler: Ghosts

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Sorry I didn't post last night. I got home late and when I tried, I couldn't get in. I have struggled and struggled with where to take this, but it hit me yesterday, and so I know where I'm going finally. It will still be another 3-5 chapters. Your feedback rocks my socks, and keeps me writing.

sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 6**

He was toweling off his hair as he emerged from the bedroom. The smell that greeted him was not promising. Sara had the windows open, and was busy fanning smoky air out the window. He looked at the store, and saw a pan of crisp, black bacon. In another pan, fried eggs were growing cold.

"Ah, can I help?"

"I don't cook. Not much, anyway. And certainly not bacon which fries up faster than what I remember. And don't look for toast 'cause that's burnt too. Eggs are cold. So I'm going to start all over, and…"

She stopped when she saw him shaking his head. He dropped the towel onto a chair and walked over to her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a hug. For a long time, he held on, his breath hot on her neck.

"I'm very happy be here with you. " he whispered into her ear. She pulled away for a second and studied his face, reaching a hand over to brush his beard lightly.

"Do I know you?"

He chuckled and brushed hair off her face. He swallowed hard, and for a moment, the two of them stayed still, staring into each other's eyes. He reached in and kissed her gently. She smiled wide and kissed him back. They were gentle with one another, exploring, but soft. She reached under his t-shirt and began roaming from his chest to his back. He reached behind her, and picked her up lightly, setting her on the counter. He was beginning to explore beneath her collarbone when he heard a noise, a small growl. He brought his face up to hers. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Neither one of us has eaten in the last 24 hours."

"There will be plenty of time for that." She turned her attention to his neck.

He pulled away. "You need to eat."

She gestured helplessly at the mess she had made.

"How about a nice walk down to the resort, and lunch outside in the sun?"

"Are you sure? 'Cause I could just, you know…or we could wait…or…."

She stopped because he was standing back to admire her legs. "I like your shorts."

She grinned at him, jumping off the counter. "Really? Want to know where you can get a pair?"

"Nope. Just as long as you know where to get them I'll be just fine." He stuffed his wallet in a back pocket, and gestured to the door with an exaggerated grace. "After you, my dear."

She looked over her shoulder as she passed him. "Better not let me catch you checking out my ass."

"Such language, Sara. You know, as a scientist, it's quite natural for me to be interested in anatomy. How the body functions, moves, all of that. Ever thought of wearing high heels with those shorts?" The door slammed in his face. "Okay, maybe not."

It was a warm day, and it was hard for Sara not to make comparisons to a time less than 48 hours ago, when they took this very same walk. It felt different this time. It was more comfortable as if they both understood that, good or bad, their lives were destined to remain intricately intertwined. She linked her arm through his without hesitation or anxiety, and he pulled her closer with a sense of ease.

He slowed as they turned the corner to the resort. There were police cars everywhere, an ambulance, a county morgue vehicle. "What the hell?"

"Let's turn back, okay? Roland left a whole bunch of stuff in the refrigerator."

"Sounds like a plan." They turned around and started to head back up the road when they heard someone shout, "Wait!" They turned to find Brass running after them.

"Jim, what's with the party?"

"A woman took a header off the third floor balcony. Single woman. Alone in her room. They paged me at 6 a.m."

"Who's here?"

Brass laughed. "Well, who's not here is the better question. Catherine and Warrick are running the investigation, and is she ever in a special mood. Wants to see you. Check out your flu. Thinks you and I snuck up here for a long weekend of fishing. Has been snapping at me all morning."

"Right. You tell Catherine that you talked to me, and I don't want any visitors. We're going to hightail it back up to the house."

"You might want to rethink that." Grissom gave Brass a curious look until he heard her.

"Well, if this doesn't just take the cake." Catherine was standing behind him, hands on her hips. Warrick shifted his kit from hand to hand, and looked at Grissom with something of a grimace.

"Catherine, it's not what you think."

"Oh really, Gil. The two of you attending a seminar here at the resort? By the way, Sara, how's that leg?"

Sara just looked at her with a little smile tugging out of one side of her mouth.

"Can you give me a minute to explain?"

"Right. You take a minute. That's all I have is time. My daughter comes home last week with 3 C's and a D on her report card. 3C's and a D. Lindsay's smart enough to do better work in her sleep. So I say to myself, okay Catherine, next week, you are going to be home with her every minute you can so you can talk to her, help her with her homework, whatever she wants. But it turns out I can't because Gil Grissom has the flu and Sara Sidle banged up her knee. But that's okay I think 'cause I know that they would never call in sick unless they were sick. 'Cause they know that it means that people have to come in and cover their time. Plus, I am thinking that these two have tons of vacation to burn so there is no reason to squander their sick time. If they want to spend time together, they'll take vacation time in advance like the rest of us poor slobs.

Warrick leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder. "Calm down, Catherine. You're assuming a whole lot here." Sara smiled at him when he said that, remembering the way in which she had judged him when they first met.

She brushed his hand away. "Yeah, I am. I'm assuming that these two would understand that it's tough being a single mom and juggling a career and a family. And, yeah, I'm assuming that they understand that Lindsay's problems probably stem from the lack of quality time I give her."

She stopped, her face red, and paced a little. Brass went over and whispered something in her ear. She looked up. He gestured at Warrick, and guided the two of them down to the beach for a few minutes. Sara could see Catherine's agitation change as she held her arms tightly around her middle. Warrick looked up at Sara and shook his head.

"Are you okay that he's telling them?" Grissom looked at her closely.

"I didn't like lying in the first place."

Catherine came running back first. She rubbed her eyes before she could talk. "Sara, are you okay? Are you sure that you should even be up?"

Sara nodded at her. "I'm sorry we lied, Catherine. I guess…"

Grissom stepped in. "My privacy issues appear to have run amok. There was really no need to lie about the reasons we weren't coming in."

Sara jumped back in. "Please let me know how I can help with Lindsay. We are kind of friends, you know. Maybe we could do homework together or something. That would leave you to spend more fun time with her."

"Are you guys going to shut up for one minute so I can tell you how sorry I am?"

Sara took her hand and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry too."

"You should have called me." Catherine was looking at Grissom.

He shrugged. "By the time, I could think clearly enough, it was all over, and then it didn't seem like there was any need."

Warrick appeared and pulled Sara into his lanky frame. "Girl, you are something else, you know that. You and I are going to have a very long talk about this. You hear me?"

She smiled and let him rock her a little. Brass caught up with them. "So we are one big, happy family again."

"Tell us about your case. Maybe we can help." Grissom said, his head tilted at Catherine.

"Ah, forget it, guys. I'm an idiot. You just go about doing whatever it is you were doing, and we'll leave you alone."

"No, we want to help. There's really nothing better to do, and we know you need the help." Sara said.

"Oh, that's about the saddest thing I've ever heard. Nothing better to do. Easy to guess how far this relationship has progressed." Brass regarded them with mock indignation.

Grissom groaned. "Please people, I realize that I have privacy issues, but there have to be limits."

Brass laughed. "Okay Queen Victoria, no problem."

"Do you realize that this is the second time in two days you have been called a queen?" Sara said with a devilish smile. He arched a brow at her.

"Okay, not going there," Catherine said with a puzzled look.

Warrick cleared his throat. "So, you want to know about the case, then. Woman, 34, single. Taking a long weekend alone by all accounts. Ate alone in the dining room last night. Went upstairs at 9 p.m. Two staff saw her. Then 1a.m., people in the room next door heard a scuffle, and called the desk. Two minutes later, she falls from the balcony and lands on the cement in the pool area. Broke her neck."

"Signs of assault? Struggle?" Sara was listening with interest.

"Yeah, vaginal bruising, marks on arms, thighs, face."

"What did you get?" Grissom gestured with his head at the kit.

"Epithelials off her nails. Hairs off the victim and carpet. Possible semen sample for DNA testing, assorted fingerprints. Hope to come up more something substantial back at the lab."

"Interviews?"

"Not yet."

"Well, how about this? Catherine goes back to the lab, processes the evidence, and then goes home for some much needed rest. Sara and I help you interview the staff."

"Aw geez, you guys. I'm doing okay." Catherine grimaced.

Grissom put his arm around her shoulders in a rare display of affection. "Go home. Spend time with the kid. We'll make tonight the last night here. We'll drive back in the morning. Okay?"

"You're killing me, Grissom. I swear to you. I was being nothing but a bear. No reason for it."

"Listen, Cat. We work together. Sara could still use some rest. But I can go back to work as early as tonight if you need. I got your back. You got mine. Remember?"

"You're not coming back tonight. But tomorrow night, I could use the break. As for right now, I'll take the evidence back, spend some time with Lindsay, and be ready to be on tonight. Okay?"

"It's a deal." He squeezed her shoulders tightly. She rolled his eyes and flipped her hair back. "Give me the kit." Warrick handed it over.

She turned one more time and pointed at Sara. "You rest. And stay away from…everything. Just stay out of trouble. Got it?"

Sara grinned and nodded.

"Come on, guys. Let's go sit down and map out these interviews." Brass gestured with his head.

"Lunch, Jim. We eat and work at the same time. Okay?" Grissom steered Sara in the direction of the dining room.

………………………………......................................................................................................................

TBC


	7. chapter 7

Spoiler: Ghosts

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Okay, I have this figured out and I think 4 chapters will do it. Getting bored? Am I losing readers? I hope not. I promise a very interesting ending. Again I appreciate the feedback that people give. It makes my day.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 7**

"You didn't seriously think he was going to let you work, did you?" Warrick looked at her over the top of his coffee cup. He had walked back to the house with her after lunch.

She shrugged. "I just got up a few hours ago. I don't feel like taking a nap." She sat, her legs curled under her on the couch.

"Personally, I'm happy for the break."

"He feels guilty that you have had to cover for us."

"You'll do the same for me some day."

"We could have done two interrogations simultaneously."

"Brass didn't want it that way." Warrick put the coffee down and relaxed back into his chair. "Look, Sara. Just relax. We have the samples at the lab, and Gris and Brass are doing interviews. Everything's covered. I'm just going to finish my coffee, go home and get some sleep. 'Kay?"

"You probably have a million questions you want to ask." She rested her head on an afghan thrown over the back of the couch.

He shrugged, looking at her steadily with his sleepy, green eyes.

"I can never read you. You keep your emotions so far back inside."

He massaged the bridge of his nose and looked at her. "What do you want, Sara?"

"Are you mad or disappointed? I can't tell what you're thinking."

"Neither." He waited.

"Warrick, please." She slapped the pillow in her lap.

"Okay, Sara. Let's not even go into the fact that 99 people out of 100 would have gone for help instead of jumping in after that child. We're going to forget that because you're Sara. Your own safety just doesn't enter into the equation somehow. This, I can live with. Reluctantly. But I think I understand this part of you."

"All right. Bring it on." Sara's voice had tensed.

"I don't get it about you and Grissom. For years, I have seen you pine for him, and, of course, Grissom is completely oblivious the whole time. I just don't know."

"You should be happy. You care about both of us."

He snorted. "I do. Grissom probably saved my life when he took a chance on me. And you? Well, you and I haven't always had the easiest time, but we got through it."

"Then there's no problem." Sara's voice forced a cheerfulness she wasn't feeling.

"I don't know if Grissom is built for this, Sara." Warrick shook his head slowly.

Sara hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts. "He's trying, and it's like he's…a new person. He cares about me."

"He always has. We have watched him for years care about you in his own awkward way. That's never been the issue."

Sara was biting at her bottom lip.

"I just don't know if he can do this. He doesn't feel or express himself the way other people do."

"I'm aware of his faults."

"Something you and I know that others only suspect is that he has a deep heart. Both of you are risking a lot of pain."

"You're really good at this. You should do parties." Sara smiled, but her eyes had grown soft and red.

"I don't want to be right, but if I am, it's going to be hard to watch for those of us who love you." He leaned forward.

"Have you ever been in love with something impossible? It made no real sense, it just was, and it pulled at you like a bulldog on a leash. "

Warrick didn't say anything.

"Please, Warrick. Tell me."

He dropped his head for a moment and let out a long breath. "I was young. New to the field. She was a little older and married. Beautiful and alive. She moves like a cat. She could look at me for a moment, and I would be useless for hours just thinking about her. I relived every day I had as a geeky teen-ager whenever I was around her."

"Just like a cat, huh? Orange tabby maybe? Blue eyes. I know some cats."

"Sara, don't."

"I think you understand exactly what I'm facing." She rose up from the afghan and met his eyes.

"And I know how hopeless it is. It's a longing, but you can't let it own you."

"What if it is worth fighting for."

"I don't chase windmills."

"Sara Quixote, huh? It has sort of a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" She cocked her head with a wry smile.

"You're not mad at me?" He looked at her quizzically.

She shrugged. "you're just telling me the truth."

"Sara, I don't understand."

"Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are alive."

He smiled. "What have you been reading?"

"C.S. Lewis." She screwed up her face for a moment. "Everyone sees me as this pathetic girl--"

"Hey, I never--" She held up her hand to stop him.

"Let me finish. I have pined over him for years. Your words, Warrick. But it's okay because it's true. Only it hasn't been because I have nothing else. I just don't want to give up. I see something in him that reflects something in me. There's the potential for something really special, you know?"

His green eyes narrowed a little as he listened.

"I can let go. I don't want to."

A smile spread across his warm face. "Of course not. You don't know anything about giving up."

"It's who I am." She dropped back against the cushions, arms folded across her chest.

"If anyone can do it, Sara, it's you."

"Now that we've settled that, let talk about cats."

Warrick dropped his head into his hands.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

The interviews had gone without incident. Nothing remarkable was learned. She was a personable woman alone on vacation. No one took note of anyone showing any particular interest in her. The hotel had her checked in for three days, three to go. She didn't leave the resort much, preferring to stay on the resort's nice verandas and read. Brass found this an incomprehensible way to vacation, and was sure that she was waiting for someone. Grissom was not so sure. For himself, he couldn't think of a better way to vacation than to sit somewhere quiet with a good book.

Grissom sat on one of the comfortable, overstuffed leather coaches that dictated the Southwestern style of the lobby. Brass was finishing up one final interview, and Grissom was waiting for him before they finished for the day. Then he would be free to find Sara and they could, perhaps, negotiate something of a romantic ending to the weekend.

A familiar sight caught his eye from across the hotel lobby. She was smaller than he remembered, her blonde hair was pulled back awkwardly in a barrette. She walked behind her father, silent and pale. He didn't realize that they were staying at the resort, and wondered why they would still be there. Grissom returned his attention to the notes he had spread out on a coffee table in front of him.

Memories of her cold, wet face took over, and he raised his head again, pushing his glasses down to the tip of his nose. Her father stopped at the desk, and began talking to the desk clerk. The child stood silently beside her father, one hand clutching his pant leg. She looked around the room and spotted him. Grissom was surprised when she let go of her dad's leg, and walked straight for him. She stopped a few feet in front of him. "Do you remember me?"

He smiled. "Of course, your name is Elizabeth."

"You're the man that saved me."

"Actually, a woman named Sara saved you. I just helped."

"I want to go home." Her blue eyes were impossibly big. "Daddy says we can't yet."

Grissom patted the couch cushion next to him. She blinked at him, looked back at her dad, and then walked over and sat down.

"Your daddy probably has to finish making arrangements so that your mom and brother can come with."

"They're dead, you know."

"I know and I'm sorry about that."

She let out a great sigh, and her slight frame slumped against the back of the couch. She rolled her head against the cushion and looked at him. "Daddy doesn't know how to raise a little girl."

Grissom arched an eyebrow at the small child sitting next to her.

"He did my hair wrong. And he doesn't know that I can't have cookies before dinner. He let me wear my green pants with my pink cowboy shirt today. And I got to watch Nickelodeon forever last night. He's really lost."

"Well, I'm sure that he can learn how to do these things right."

"He's a business guy, and he's never home 'cause he's too busy stimulating the economy. How can he learn to be a mom?" Grissom grinned a little at her description, but it faded when his eyes fell on the bruises on her arms from the creek.

He put his arm around her and leaned over. "He loves you so he'll learn to compromise. You know, he'll still do what he does, but he'll also learn to do things for you."

She looked up at him. "What if he doesn't want to be a mom?"

Grissom thought for a moment. "Your daddy won't be happy if you're not so my guess is that he will learn to do whatever you need him to do."

"Would you make all these changes for your girl?"

Grissom blinked. For a moment, he wondered if Brass had somehow planted the question in this child. But then he realized that she was thinking about a little girl. "Uh, well, Elizabeth, when you love somebody, you have to make some changes in order to share your life with them."

"So you would make 'em? Changes?"

He pushed his glasses back up his nose and furled his brows. "I guess I would have to, wouldn't I?"

"Elizabeth!" came a voice from across the room. Her father was looking frantically around the room. Grissom threw up an arm and waved him over. He cursed himself for allowing her to wander over to his side of the room without informing her father. The man saw him and came trotting over.

"Mr. Grissom, again to the rescue." The relief on his face was evident.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you didn't know where she was." Grissom winced at the exhausted man.

"It's hard. She's had nothing to do but follow me around while I make arrangements."

"You're having trouble?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I'm trying to make arrangements to fly…them out, and I'm getting the runaround."

Grissom reached out. "May I borrow your cell?" He took it and dialed. "Hello Al…yeah, something like that…I'm on the Olsen homicide, and I have a gentleman in front of me, uh, his wife and son died in the flash flood in Elm Creek Friday night…Different case. Anyway, he is having a hard time arranging a flight for them. And I was wondering if…I would really appreciate it…Okay, hold on…Thanks Al."

Grissom handed the phone over. The man took it gratefully. He walked a few paces away as Doc Robins talked to him about the process of transporting bodies. Grissom looked down at his little friend, and saw that she had sunk down in the seat next to him, a glazed look in her eyes. He imagined that the last few days had been very rough for her, and he hoped that she might, one day, regain some sense of innocence.

He remembered an old trick his uncle used to do when he was a kid. He fished a quarter out of his pocket. He nudged her and she looked up. He showed her the quarter, and then with what he hoped was a few graceful twists of his hand, he showed her how it had disappeared. Then he reached over, and gently pulled at her ear. A quarter appeared in his hand again. She blinked, her eyebrows raised, and asked him to do it again. He did it over and over for her; four times in all. Each time, her eyes danced, and, for a few brief moments, she could escape her sad circumstances.

She leaned over and said to him in a conspiratorial whisper, "Now, I know two magic men."

"Really? Who's the other one?"

"The man who tricked the lady last night."

"Excuse me, I didn't hear about this."

"Last night at dinner, I saw him trick this lady who was sitting alone."

At this, Grissom perked up. "Tell me what you saw."

"Well, she left the table for a little while, and he went over and did this tricky with his hands, and he switched his room card for hers."

"You saw this?"

She nodded. "Daddy was too sad to talk to me, and so I was looking around the room. And this man got up, and when he walked by her table, he put his hand down and picked up her card. I noticed

'cause he wasn't good at it like you are. You could see the card in his hand when he put it down, and then he fumbled when he picked hers up. You're much better than he is."

"Can you tell me what the man looked like?"

She shrugged. "Old. Like you. But no glasses and his hair was brown."

He nodded. "Anything else?"

"He has a boat down at the lake 'cause I saw him in it yesterday."

"Elizabeth, this is great. You have a very good memory."

"Are you going to go and have a magic talk with him?

"Something like that."

Her father was off the phone now. "Thank you again. I think everything is taken care of now."

"Your welcome. Have a safe trip." Grissom stood up and solemnly shook hands with the man. The child got up and tugged on Grissom's hand. When he looked down, she beckoned with a finger. He leaned over and she whispered in his ear. "If I promise to be good forever, would you do some magic and bring my mommy back?"

He looked into the sad, blue eyes that were beginning to pool with tears. "I'm so sorry, honey. Nobody has enough magic for that."

She bit her lip. "It's okay." Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tight. Grissom felt emotion rise up in him and he looked away for a moment. He watched them as they walked off hand in hand, and marveled at the courage they had to allow themselves to feel each other so deeply. He wondered if he was even capable of such love.

Before he could ponder the ultimate dead end of such thoughts, he remembered what she told him, and he grabbed his cell phone and began punching in Brass' number.

………………………………..........................................................................................................

TBC


	8. chapter 8

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: ghosts.

Aha! You think. She plans to write this story forever. It is not true. I have two-three more chapters planned. No more. I needed this piece to pull together the denouement. Feedback has slowed, but what I get is still so sweet and appreciated. Thanks for all of your time and energy.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 8**

Brass sent him off without acknowledging any of his protests. "We got it covered, Griss. Everything is set. We know who he is, and we'll just wait for him to show up at the hotel. He hasn't checked out."

"But, perhaps, I should be around--"

"Grissom, we got it. Go! Have a nice evening." With that, he pushed his friend toward the lobby entrance. Grissom let out a sigh, and left. He wandered out into the late afternoon sun. The sun was still bright but softer colors were beginning to gather at the horizon. He wondered if Sara would be interested in a walk , and, later, maybe something a little more aerobic in the evening. The thought of it brought both excitement and anxiety rushing through him. This was usually the point at which he would step back, uncomfortable with the strong emotions growing within him. But Grissom wasn't going to let this stop him tonight. Too much had happened in the last three days. Running away from her wasn't going to work any more. Ever since he had pulled her from the water, he felt it, an inexorable connection. She inhabited him. Like a child walking into a kindergarten for the first time, he was entering a new world, and as daunting as it seemed, he was determined to have the brown eyed girl with the gap in her smile.

………………………………..........................................................................................................

Brass had the name, a background check done, and an APB out on the suspect within an hour. A search of the man's room turned up the dead woman's wallet. The man, Randy Trenton, had left early in the morning before interviews were happening. So Brass set up his people in the lobby and out in the parking lot, casually dressed. He hoped to catch the guy with as little fuss as possible.

………………………………......................................................................................................................

Grissom saw her coming down the dirt road toward him. Loose and lanky, her face erupted into a smile when she saw him. The sight sent a shiver down his spine. This woman with the impulsive nature and intense emotions had stolen his heart. He swallowed hard. The idea of it scared him silly, but he kept walking because she was no longer a choice for him. She was wearing those shorts, and it amazed him how long her legs were. She was such a beautiful girl. The idea that she was interested in him amused him to no end. The years he had put into puzzling over this idea had gotten him nowhere, and he now found himself at a place where he no longer cared. Reason and logic had been of no use to him when it came to Sara, and he was finally at peace with that.

He imagined the possibilities of the night ahead. He was ready to know her fully. Every inch of her. He imagined her with her clothes off, hair falling into her face. And he would touch her everywhere, no limits. Ahead, she stopped in the middle of the road and crouched down. He could tell she was studying something and he smiled. Sara the scientist was as insanely interested in the natural world as he was. As he neared, she looked up and waved him over. He could begin to make out the shape of a snapping turtle slowly moving its way across the road.

……………………………….....................................................................................................................

Every once in a while, it happened like this. A suspect who like all suspects was subject to the unwritten rules of suspect behavior would step outside the box. Instead of surprised and shocked, the suspect would put on a show never before imagined by his interrogators. Later, when Brass thought about it, he suspected that Randy Trenton would fall into that category. Unfortunately, he never got to the interrogation room because Randy Trenton couldn't stay cool enough. A loose cannon. A nightmare for Jim Brass.

The first Brass heard of their suspect, he was pulling into the parking lot in a Black Cadillac Escalade. Brass ran to the entrance, talking into his walkie talkie. He told his people to stay back, preferring to capture him at the door to the resort. But something happened. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe Trenton was suspicious of the plains clothes deputies who were approaching behind him. Whatever it was, Trenton never made it to the door. He turned suddenly and ran back for the car. Brass started shouting at his people, running past them as he did. He shouted for Trenton to freeze, but the man was beyond reason. He pulled himself back into his SUV, and backed up at high speed, crushing the front fenders of two cars. Then he hit his accelerator and was gone in a cloud of dust. Brass aimed at his tires but couldn't get a clean shot. He opted for his walkie talkie, screaming at patrol cars to cover the road leading out of the resort.

He ran after the SUV. It sped for the exit, and then stopped suddenly, aware of the roadblock ahead. With a squeal of tires, the vehicle backed up suddenly and turned wildly up the dirt road that ran past the Worthington house.

……………………………….............................................................................................................

Grissom knelt beside Sara who was gently stroking the back of the turtle. She turned her head and smiled wide. And then she began to tell him a story of a turtle named Fluffy she had when she was 8. He chuckled as she recounted bringing Fluffy to her 3rd grade class one day and left it inside her desk, feeding it cookies and crackers and milk from snack time for several months until she was sick one day, and her teacher reached in her desk to get some homework for her and came out a turtle hanging off her thumb. Sara gently placed it in her hand, and for a moment, they both studied its clawlike, amphibian legs.

He heard it first, low and powerful. He looked up from where they crouched and saw it, an SUV bearing down on them at incredible speed. Beside him, she gasped. He grabbed her around the waist and started moving. The truck was so close that pebbles spewed onto them. Panicked, he shoved her hard. Then he felt the corner of the bumper lift him, and send him spinning in another direction.

………………………………...............................................................................................................

Brass was running up the gravel road as fast as he could. Deputies ran alongside him, guns drawn. He saw his friends crouched on the hot gravel, and he saw the black SUV speed up the narrow road. He tried to yell a warning, but exertion of the running suppressed any decent sound. And then the SUV passed them, a tremendous cloud of dust billowing up in its wake, but as it settled, there was no sign of life.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

The truck hit a turn at high speed, and wasn't able to gain traction in the gravel. For a millisecond it was suspended in mid air, and then it bounced once in the meadow, flipping over, and landing on its hood. Brass waved his people in the direction of the vehicle while he continued on to the lonely portion of dirt road that 10 seconds earlier held Grissom and Sara. As he neared, a brown head rose above the brush. The relief almost choked him, and he slowed his run to catch his breath. She was unsteady when she stood, but was able to balance herself by shifting her weight.

"Sara!" he yelled and she reeled around to find him. She shook her head at him, and began to slowly search through the brush. Brass reached her and held her back for a minute, checking to see if there were any major injuries. She pushed him off of her and she fell back into the brush. "Find him," she hissed before stumbling off through the grass.

He started fanning the brush calling Grissom's name. At first, he heard nothing and then a groan rose up. Brass twirled around trying to place it. Another one rose, and he realized that Grissom was on the other side of the road. He ran across the road and began calling for him again. Sara stopped what she was doing, and came rushing over to his side of the road. Brass almost stepped on Grissom. He was lying spread out on his back about 10 feet from the side of the road in a thicket. Brass parted the grass and kneeled down. Grissom.'s eyes were narrow with pain. Sara pushed her way in next to Brass and gasped. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. Grissom was alive.

"Where are you hurt, buddy?" Brass winced at the sounds of discomfort radiating from his friend.

"Hip…back," managed Grissom through clenched teeth.

"You're going to be okay." Sara reached out to stroke his face, but he turned his head away from her hand. She drew her hand back, confused.

"You think you broke something?"

"Don't know. Hope it's just bruised bone or deep tissue injury." Grissom tried to say more but the pain struck him again and he groaned. Sara bit her lip, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes.

Brass stood up. "Don't worry. Help is coming." He climbed back onto the road, and pulled out his cell phone.

Sara pulled herself up closer to his face. "I'm sorry. I should have been able to react better."

He shook his head at her briefly.

"I want to be here for you. Take care of you. No matter what happens.."

Grissom turned his head away from her. She blinked in surprise, unsure of what she was doing wrong. She took her hands off his arm and sat quietly for a moment.

"You are okay, right?" He spat the words out, his hands gripped at the grass.

"I'm okay," she whispered. "Please let me help you."

"I'm sorry. I…need space, Sara. Please."

She heard shouts and the sounds of grass being trampled. Paramedics dropped down beside her and began their triage. Grissom let out a howl when they tried to shift his shoulder. Sara flinched. "Be careful, guys. He might have a broken hip or maybe his back."

"Jesus! Give me a little credit. I am not that old, Sara." His voice was sharp and strained.

She stayed quiet, staring at him, her hands folded stiffly in her lap. They brought in a back board and carefully eased him onto it, but it sent off another wave of pain through him and he screamed out. By this point, she was shaking, incapable of holding back the tears. Carefully, they carried him out of the meadow, and onto the dirt road. She followed closely, her eyes never leaving him. He reached out a hand and called to Brass. Jim trotted over to him.

"Already, you're a pain in the ass."

"Literally." Grissom said.

"Kind of looks like you're faking it to me."

Grissom groaned in response. When he had control again, he said. "Do me a favor. Take Sara home. Make sure she rests. I don't want her at the hospital. Please, Jim."

Sara stood next to Jim as Grissom said this. She was mortified. He was speaking about her as if she was a small child. Jim looked at her for a moment before responding. "She's right here. Want to tell her yourself?"

Grissom winced, unwilling to make eye contact with her. "Please. This is bad enough. I don't want her there. Do this for me."

The paramedics took over, carefully loading him into the ambulance. Sara didn't move as the sirens blew and the vehicle pulled away.

"Sara, he's embarrassed. In pain. Not himself. Please remember that." Jim Brass had his hand on her elbow, talking into her ear.

She shrugged him off. "If he doesn't want me around, that's no problem. I will steer clear. No problem." She started walking up the road.

"Sara?"

"Going to pack up our stuff. You can drop me off and then you can drop off his things." She didn't wait for a response, continuing to climb the road to the beautiful home they had shared.

………………………………............................................................................................................................

TBC


	9. chapter 9

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

I have put you all through so much. Too much, really. So I have pushed myself to really move this along. Chapter 9 will be a nice segue into what you have all been waiting for. Thanks again to those of you who have stayed with this story. The time you take to respond means a lot to me.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 9**

Grissom walked in slowly. His lower back still carried with it an unnatural stiffness that left him with a wide gait. He smiled at people passing by, but was determined to keep moving until he was safely in his office. He turned on his light, and was relieved to find that his office looked pretty much like he left it. He had never been gone from the lab for so long, and was feeling anxious about returning to a routine. He moved around to his chair, and went through a rather slow process of lowering himself into his seat. He turned on his computer and started sifting through the mail that littered his desk.

A knock on his door startled him and he looked up to see Nick Stokes standing in his doorway, a grin spread from ear to ear. "How you doing there, Boss?"

Grissom smiled. "I'm doing well, actually."

"Good to have you back."

Grissom waved him in. Nick settled into a chair.

"So tell me about your recovery."

Grissom took in a breath. "Well, as you know, I fractured two vertebrae in my lower back and bruised up my hip. But the last four weeks have been good for me. I'm getting physical therapy three days a week, and I am feeling pretty mobile. A few more weeks and I should be able to return to all normal activity."

"You think you're ready for this craziness?"

Grissom chuckled. "I have been missing this 'craziness' for some time now."

"Well, that's good, but it's been full moon busy for the last three weeks."

"Everyone holding up okay?"

Nick furled his brows for a moment, and then looked Grissom in the eye. "I think she'll make it."

Grissom was unsettled by the directness of his response. He thought about denying the implication, but realized that it was a conversation that he needed to have. "I'm glad."

"She works every moment she can. Doubles. Triples. Catherine is so desperate for the help that she doesn't take time to notice the dark circles growing under Sara's eyes."

Grissom looked down at his desk. "I was unkind to her."

Nick nodded. "Yes, boss, you were."

"The pain was terrible and I closed down. No other explanation."

"I'm not the one you should be talking to about this."

"She won't return my phone calls."

"You wouldn't talk to her for the first two weeks."

"I'm an idiot."

"Yes, boss."

"Thanks Nicky." The sarcasm came unexpectedly.

Nick shrugged. "What can I say? It's hard to watch her in so much pain."

"I never meant to hurt her."

"It's good for her to know your limitations; to have an honest assessment of who you are. Maybe some day, she'll understand what's possible and what's not possible with you."

"I have never hidden this from her."

"But it doesn't stop her, Grissom. Does it? She loves you." Nick shook his head and laughed. "Listen to me. I can't believe I am having this conversation with you."

"Nor can I, frankly."

Nick stood up. "I'm sorry, Griss. It's good to have you back. Really. We missed you."

Grissom nodded once, and watched him as he left the office. In one lousy moment, the possibility of a life with Sara had been snatched away. He could remember thinking about her, dreaming about her, imagining future. Now he couldn't imagine what he was thinking. How could a man of his issues ever hope to fulfill a woman like her?

………………………………...

For the next couple of weeks, he focused on nothing but work. He was cordial to Sara, deferential even. She got every case that he thought she wanted . Sofia noticed and was starting to make noises about it, but Grissom didn't care. He had so much to make up for, and so few resources to offer her. He was back already for three weeks before he finally had the courage to talk to her alone. He waited until she was finished for her shift, and then he followed her out to her car.

"Sara, do you have a moment?"

She seemed startled to see him approaching.

"It's been so busy. We never find time to talk."

A strange look grew on her face. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I want you to know how sorry I-"

"You apologized on my answering machine six different times." She opened her car door.

"I think I was scared, and…frustrated and I didn't want you to see all of that."

She stopped and shut her door. "You were in a lot of pain. I think you've apologized enough. I understand what happened."

He pulled his glasses off and looked straight at her. "How can you if I can't? Tell me that."

"You were vulnerable, Grissom. The most vulnerable I have ever seen you. And you couldn't handle it. You certainly couldn't handle me seeing it."

"I suppose that could be true."

"It's been hard, but I think it's good to know this now before…before we revealed too much of ourselves with one another."

"I acted badly and I wish I could…undo it."

She smiled sadly at him. "Hey, Grissom, tell me about your back. You doing okay?"

"Yeah. It's good. It's…" He stopped for a moment and considered his words. "You know, Sara, the truth is that I have never had to deal with this much physical pain before, and it is truly exhausting, and, at times, depressing."

She stared at him as if he had just confessed to a string of murders. "Are you getting help?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I go to physical therapy every week, and I lie to them about how I am doing."

She massaged her temples deeply. "While I am impressed with your efforts at self-disclosure, I think you should direct these efforts at the people trying to help you."

He sighed. "You're right. I never seem to make anything easy."

She took a step forward and the stopped herself. She stood awkwardly for a moment unable to risk further intimacy. "Promise me, Grissom. Promise me that you are going to tell your physical therapist everything you just told me."

"I will."

Impulsively, she reached out and held his arm. "Please take care of yourself. It's…you are important to me; to all of us, Grissom. Okay?"

He nodded and she was gone, wasting no movement as she climbed into her truck and backed out of her spot, a slight squeal of her tires accentuating her rush. He stood alone staring off into distance, trying to decipher the tremendous sense of loss he was feeling for something he never had.

………………………………...

Brass kept knocking. He knew that Grissom was unlikely to be out gallivanting around town. It took five minutes before he actually opened the door. The usually neat Grissom appeared in his doorway, hair disheveled and eyes blurry. From the smell coming off him, Brass knew he hadn't been sleeping. Not waiting for an invitation, Brass walked around him and spied the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table.

"Didn't know you were a bourbon man, Gil," he said settling into a chair.

"Didn't know I was either. Tastes like crap, but takes the edge off, you know." Grissom ambled over to the couch, and lowered himself carefully.

"Mix well with the Vicodin?"

Grissom rubbed his blurry eyes.

"Not sure you were cut out for alcoholism, you know. You need to enjoy it more, at least at the outset."

"Then find me a pill for forgetting." His voice came sharply.

"Sorry. There is no medication for stupidity."

Grissom chuckled. "I can always count my good friend, Jim, when the going gets tough."

"Damn straight."

"Sara thinks I was just following my nature. I'm not capable of the intimacy."

"Well, she doesn't have much showing her otherwise."

"I never really had her, and, yet, I feel like I have lost everything. I feel completely empty."

Brass wasn't prepared for Grissom to lay bare his soul. It unsettled him.

"Before I was hit, I was ready. I am serious, Jim. I felt so ready for her, to be with her, to be a part of her, everything."

Brass slapped his knees. "All right. Then we're going to get her back. Hear me?"

Grissom shook his head. "Too late. Too much damage done. Too much hurt. Besides, I think Nicky would knock me into next week if I tried."

"Aw, you let me take care of Nick. He's just being protective."

"Really, Jim, it's too much. I don't think either one of us can handle another disappointment."

"Yeah, your life finally seems to be going in the right direction with the drinking and the depression and the loneliness. You really don't want to mess with a patented combination like that."

"I don't have the energy for this." Grissom awkwardly pulled himself to his feet and walked out of the room. Brass heard a door close and figured it was Grissom's bedroom. He sat for a long time alone in the living room.

……………………...

Sara sat on the bench staring into her locker. It was time to go. She had no more work to do. No one was going to tolerate her nosing into their cases. People had already made that clear; even Greg who was often ready to do anything she wanted. The next step was to go home, but there was nothing waiting for her there. Sleep had become tortuous and the house was so clean it was sterile. Going to movies was ponderous exercise, and she often couldn't remember what she had seen. So here she sat, unable to move because there was nothing with any meaning for her outside the lab.

"Hey, Sara."

Startled, she looked up to find Warrick standing beside her. "Hey yourself."

"Got plans?"

She shrugged.

"Brass has been waving his credit card around. Wants to take us out to a steak house. Place called Stanley's. I know you don't like beef, but I figure-"

"They have the best fish tacos in town."

He grinned. "Then it's settled."

"Ah, no, Warrick, I have too much to do at home. My apartment is a pigsty."

He shook his head. "Don't shine me on, Sara."

"I'm not good company."

"We would really like you to come."

She reached over and grasped his hand. "Not tonight, 'Rick. Okay?"

He squeezed back. "I worry about you. I miss old Sara Quixote."

"Didn't think you liked her."

"Changed my mind. I miss her ferociousness and her courage."

Sara looked down at the floor. The tears came so quickly these days. She blinked them away.

"Honey, I didn't mean to make you sad."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "It's okay. Sad a lot these days. But I'll get better soon. Don't worry." She stood up, a forced smile glued to her face. "Got to get going. See you on Monday." She moved so fast, she didn't even take time to close her locker. Warrick took care of it for her as she disappeared out into the Vegas sun.

………………………………...

Catherine wondered how difficult it was going to be to get Brass into his bed. She had lost count of the beers he had drunk. Remains of a Porterhouse steak had begun to congeal on his plate. He had loosened his tie and was on another tirade about how he was responsible for Grissom and Sara's troubles.

"If I had just secured the guy in the parking lot. It would have all been okay. I'm telling ya. You should have seen Grissom. You wouldn't have believed it. He was ready. He told me himself. But I didn't secure the guy, and so now we have this mess."

"Give it a couple of months, I think both of them will be back to normal." Nick shrugged.

"I don't know, Nicky. Should have seen Sara today. " Warrick was staring into a large mug of beer.

"Why are we acting like this would have worked? I think it's better that they go through the hurt now."

"Why are you such a hard ass about this, Nick?"

"Hey! None of you teamed with her as closely as I did. Every day it seemed like there was some mixed message from Grissom that Sara would puzzle over. She's a beautiful woman, but she has spent the last five years sitting around waiting for this socially retarded man to notice her. It's ridiculous."

"Nicky, tell us what you really think?" Brass looked like he was spoiling for a fight.

"Don't get me wrong. I like Grissom and I don't really think he is trying to hurt her. But the man knows how she feel, and I believe that, for whatever reasons, he enjoys it. Every few months he throws her something cryptic to chew on, he calls her in no matter how badly she needs the time off, and then he ignores her for months on end with no explanation." Nick threw up his hands. "I don't get why you all don't see that."

Catherine reached over and held his wrist. "He loves her and he doesn't know what to do about it. It's like watching a little boy trying to play a game when he doesn't understand the rules."

Nick smirked. "He's an awfully dangerous little boy, Catherine."

"So I have a plan." Brass clapped his hands loudly.

They all turned their eyes to him.

"First, Nick, no offense, but we may have to dispose of you as you are the only thing standing in the way…except for the law, of course. Like I said, no offense, Nicky." Brass' words were beginning to run together.

Nick rolled his eyes. "I'm not standing in anyone's… Brass, just tell us your plan."

"No!" He pointed dramatically. "You're a spoiler!"

"I want them both to be happy. I just don't think they can find that together."

"So you are no good for this. I need believers in true love for this mission. Warrick! Secure him to the table so he can't follow us out."

Warrick looked at Catherine, and they burst into laughter. Nick's scowl softened, and finally he surrendered to their laughter. Brass smiled wide at everyone.

"Are you with us, Nick?"

"Can you promise it won't make things worse?"

Brass shook his head. "But they're miserable, Nick. Almost anything would be an improvement."

"Do I have a choice?"

Warrick slapped him on the back. "Hey, buddy, I don't even know what craziness he is thinking, and I'm ready to sign on. Brass is right. We need to jumpstart those two."

"Did anybody listen to me?"

"Not really, but that's okay because you have a very important role to play in my big plan." Brass rubbed his hands together and changed the tone of his voice to a more conspiratorial whisper. Catherine began mentally calculating how heavy he was going to be for Warrick to carry up his steps to his condo.

………………………………...

TBC


	10. chapter 10

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

The angst is over, let the games begin. I totally plan to have fun with this. If you're still hanging in there, then prepare for some good, clean romance. Your feedback makes me smile. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 10**

"Nicky, you got a first class sour look on your face. Wanna tell me what's going on?" Sara sat in the passenger's seat of Nick's Denali.

"You could be just the slightest bit upset that I am dragging you to Lake Mead in the middle of the night on your weekend." He shot her an accusatory look.

"Brass said he needed something from Roland. Said they couldn't close the case on Randy Trenton until he got it."

"On your weekend, Sara."

"Well, I guess that feeling outraged is reserved for those of us with lives outside of work." She shrugged. "While I love sitting around my apartment waiting for dust to gather, it's nice to break up the monotony with a little work."

He pointed a finger in her direction. "You should not let others have this much power over you."

She squirmed in her seat. "This is starting to sound like one of those, 'Grissom isn't good enough for you' conversations you are so fond of having with me."

He shot her a look. "Well, it's not."

"Good, 'cause, if you recall, I promised to beat you with a stick if you ever dredged up that subject again."

"Just don't think you should let people take advantage is all." Nick muttered.

"Okay, thanks, Nick. I'm going to write that down." Sara edged closer to the door. Nicky's moodiness had a weird edge to it. She narrowed her eyes a little. "The resort is closed?"

"That's what I heard. Seems like three deaths, a murderer on the premises, and a hit and run all in one week was bad for business. Figure they'll open up with new owners in a couple of months."

"Hey! Roland's place is straight down this road." She gestured as he took a sharp right.

"Ah, well, ah, he's actually up at his ex's place."

"Oh." She felt something odd in her gut.

Nick hit the brakes and turned to face her. "Do you wanna leave? 'Cause, I'll just turn around and we'll go back to Vegas. Grab a bite to eat. My treat. I'll call Brass and tell him to pick up his own damn evidence."

Sara's eyes were wide. "Nicky, I swear to God, I have no idea what's wrong with you right now. But we are within, like, 50 yards of the house, so just drive up there and let me pick up this stuff."

"Okay. Your choice. Just remember I warned you."

She put up her hand. "Whatever."

Nick parked the truck and turned to her. "Can I see your wallet?"

She furled her brow at him, but handed it over.

"And your phone." He held out his hand. She hesitated, and then pulled it off her belt. He took it with a smile. "It's just that you are always forgetting stuff and so I thought I would hang onto these things until you got back. Not interested in driving back here anytime soon."

She stared at him with a disgusted look. "They're called control issues, and there are effective medications available. I will be happy to go with you once we set the psychiatric assessment. Coupled with some good psychotherapy, you should be a palatable human being again in a few short months."

He grinned widely. "This is getting easier by the minute."

She shook her head in bewilderment as she climbed out of the cab. "Hey Sara! Forget to tell you. Got to take off your shoes at the door. Worthington had some sort of professional waxing job done."

She ignored him and went up to the door. No one responded to her knock, and she tried the knob. She walked into the house. It was just as she remembered it. A feeling of sadness filled her. There was such promise of love the last time she was here. Now all those memories felt like nothing more than pathetic fantasies. She called for Roland but got no answer. She took off her shoes and walked through the living room to the bedrooms. She stopped at the door where she and Grissom had slept together one whole day and night, intertwined and exhausted. The memory of this one innocent intimacy cut her sharply, and she let out a little gasp. She heard the front door open, and she stepped back. She wasn't interested in sharing this pain with anyone. She headed back to the front, ready to welcome the old man who she had come to know so well in such a short time. She called out, but no one replied. No one was at the front entrance. Then she heard the sound of a truck backing up. She walked to the door and opened it to find that Nick was driving away. She kicked at the doorframe and cursed. Her bare foot throbbed, and she hopped back in the house. She bent to put her shoes on, but found them gone. She stood up, puzzled. She looked around the room trying to reason this out. On the kitchen counter, she spied an envelope. On the front were her and Grissom's names. She opened it and read. "Shit!" she yelled within the first few paragraphs.

………………………………...

"Roland, you're aware that I'm an entomologist not an exterminator." Grissom was unable to keep the annoyance out of his tone. He took off his shoes as he entered the house as directed by the old man. He couldn't help but notice that Worthington kept his shoes on.

Worthington shrugged. "You were in the neighborhood."

"I was in the neighborhood 'cause you called me and demanded that I be."

"Well these are very persistent critters and nothing works, and since you're a friend and all, and I'm an old man-"

"Enough. Lead me to them."

"Yeah, I'll be right there. Just go back to the back bedroom. They're in the closet."

Grissom gave him a strange look and started down the hallway. All of sudden, he heard a scream and a dark haired woman jumped out of a bedroom, and ran past him.

"Sara?" He turned and trotted after her. She disappeared out the front door, and started screaming curses. He heard a truck back up and race away. The cursing continued outside in the darkness. Before he got to the door, she bounded back in, barefoot, and stopped in the kitchen, hands on her hips.

"Sara, what in God's nam-"

"Bastards! Criminals! Thieves! We'll sue them, Grissom. Drag their asses through court. Sue for damages. Emotional distress! We're going take Brass' pension and buy lottery tickets with it. I shit you not!"

He walked up and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Tell me what the hell's going on here?"

She backed away from him and spread her arms wide. "What the hell do you think? Where's your shoes, Grissom? Got your phone? How about your wallet?"

He was looking past her at the empty spot on the ground where his shoes had been not five minutes earlier.

"Want the scoop?" She was waving a letter in front of his face. He snatched it from her. "Read it aloud, Griss. It's a classic."

He took his glasses off and put them on the kitchen island next to him. He arched an eyebrow at her, and then started reading.

_Dear Gil and Sara, _

_I am sure that you are surprised by the events unfolding around you. Nothing sinister. The gang and I thought that the two of you could use a little time away, and since the two of you seem to have the star crossed lover thing down to an art form, we thought we'd sort of help you work things out._

_You have no shoes, no wallets, and no phones. The phone in the house is unplugged. You also probably noticed that the resort is closed. Closest highway is a nine mile walk. There is an emergency alarm in the closet for local fire station, and they will come out if there are any emergencies. Knowing the two of you and your propensity for trouble, we thought it prudent to keep this in the house. If you get desperate, you can always call these hardworking folks out of their beds to simply drive you home. It would certainly be embarrassing, but I am sure they would understand. _

"I'm going to kill him. This is an actual threat I am making on his life." Sara was pacing back and forth in the living room. Grissom rolled his eyes and returned to the letter.

_We wouldn't have had to do this if not for the fact that you are both idiots who aren't happy unless you can complicate the hell out of a situation. So let us lay this out for you._

_Grissom, you are a brilliant, detached pain in the ass who is scared of his own shadow if it rests next to a woman. But the truth is that you are hot for Sara Sidle and have been for some time. The whole world knows. And whoever claims they don't know, I will personally sit down and explain it to them. So get over yourself and your cryptic flirting. You will ruin her life. All of us know this. But she is a consenting adult and appears to want to risk that. So quit acting like a dork and let her make her own decisions._

_Sara, you are also a piece of work who has held on to this man long past the time that any self respecting woman would. Our advice to you is this: take this weekend to figure it out. If you can't get through to him trapped in a vacation home for three days, then it is probably hopeless. We have compiled a list of men we know who have mentioned at one point or another that you are a hot tamale. We will share this list with you._

"Sounds good to me." She spouted. Grissom looked up from the letter and glared at Sara. She glared back defiantly.

_There is plenty of food in the cupboard and refrigerator. We advise that Grissom be designated as chef. It took Roland two weeks to air the burnt bacon smell out of the house. Also, Grissom, I stocked the left drawer in the master bathroom especially for you._

Grissom looked up again at Sara. She folded her arms and smirked at him. "He left you 36 condoms. 36 of them! He must really have some confidence in you." Grissom squeezed his eyes shut.

_Please know that this idea is my brainchild. Everyone else is playing supporting roles especially Nick who has been very surly through this entire process. No need to thank me. But I have the paperwork for restraining orders against you on my desk just in case you want to try._

_Anyhoo, we are all rooting for you. Think good thoughts. There will be a truck ready to pick you up at 8 p.m. on Monday night. _

_Yours in some trepidation, _

_Jim Brass_

She grabbed the letter, crumpled it up, and threw it into the fireplace. Then she turned to him, eyes blazing. "So what do we do now?"

"He only brought 36 condoms. Are you sure?" Grissom had a dangerous glint in his eyes.

………………………………...

TBC


	11. chapter 11

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

Thanks for staying with me. The romance part is hard. There are much more skilled writers out there in that regard. Plus I am aware that many readers are younger, and I do not want to be a purveyor of anything that is not appropriate. I have received a variety of feedback as to moving too quickly or too slowly. I am happy for it. Truly. I think it is important to critique what you are reading. Plus I think you are right about this. This story has been paced oddly, and I don't know why. I know that right now, I need to focus on different projects in my life, but have prioritized this because I love this, and I think that the weird pacing might be related to that. I have been pretty committed to posting every day or day and a half. As a reader, I am always frustrated when chapters come at widely spaced intervals. Sometimes, I am reading a chapter, and then read that the one previous was written three months earlier. And I get pretty obsessed with the continuity. If and when I write another story, I think I will write the whole thing before I post. I think I will be happiest that way.

Anyway, now you know that the writer is just as angst ridden as the story. There will be two more chapters. They will happen over the weekend. I have to prepare for a class I am teaching this weekend, and have to prioritize that in front of this 'cause that actually pays. I appreciate my readers. You have brought joy to what is otherwise a pretty work intensive lifestyle. Thanks again for taking the time. It sounds a little like a farewell, but I still have two more chapters and the last one promises to be quite interesting.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 11**

Grissom's joke about the condoms went over like a lead balloon so he retreated to the living room and sunk into the couch. The only conversation she was sending his way came in the form of thinly veiled threats. Adding insult to injury, the TV had been removed so any safety he might seek in the Discovery channel was lost to him. Strangely, he found this to be the most galling part of this whole situation.

At one point, she dragged a shower curtain into the living room and began cutting it up with a scissors. She began to wrap it around her feet.

"Are you going to try to walk to the highway with a shower curtain tied to your feet?"

She shot him a look.

He put up his hands. "Ah, just asking."

She continued to wrap the curtain around her feet in various ways, using duct tape but, unable to fit it exactly right. Grissom watched with some curiosity for awhile, and then braved in. "You know, it was 100 degrees out yesterday. Tomorrow is supposed to be hotter. A nine mile hike through Nevada desert would not be recommended under the best of circumstances. Your curtain shoes would probably last less than a mile."

For a few minutes, she ignored him. Then she finally threw up her hands, and pushed the material away.

"Maybe we should talk." he said.

She got up and walked away. He turned his head to find her rifling through the cupboards in the kitchen. She opened one cupboard and turned to him. "Thirsty?"

He looked at her warily.

"Found the booze. Heard you'd taken up drinking. Want some bourbon?"

He closed his eyes. The thought of a drink made a lot of sense right now. The tension was thick, and an area in the left side of his lower back had started to throb with pain. Relaxing would make a big difference in his life right now. He nodded at her.

She smiled sweetly, her eyes narrowed. Then she pulled a glass out of the cupboard, and set it down in the sink. She turned the bottle on end, and began pouring the liquid recklessly into the sink. "Oops! Seems to be missing the glass."

He winced. "Sara, that's pretty expensive stuff."

"Exactly!" She let all of the amber liquor pour out and then set it back on the counter. "You are not hiding away in a bottle of booze. You should know better."

He swallowed hard.

She reached for the other bottles in the cupboard, and began to pour them two fisted down the drain.

"Sara, I don't even really like liquor. You don't have to pour it away."

"Ha! I don't care. I want Mr. Busybody Worthington to get a little consequence of his own when he gets back."

"Oh. In that case, the cupboard over the refrigerator has the 12 year old scotch."

She flashed him an actual smile and climbed on the counter, pulling down the scotch, cognac, and brandy. Without hesitation, she emptied them all.

"This actually makes you feel better?" he asked.

She concentrated for a moment. "Yes!"

"Good to know." He scanned the room for reading material and frowned when all he saw was a collection of trade paperbacks and a pile of Good Housekeeping magazines. He leaned back and closed his eyes. He tried a mediation exercise his physical therapist taught, but, after 15 minute, the dull ache in his back still throbbed. It was too much to expect that Brass would have left his Vicodin, and, in the back of his mind, Grissom was glad. He was already taking the drug three weeks longer than recommended by his doctor. A dependence was building in him, and he knew he would have to confront it soon enough.

For awhile, sounds of Sara ransacking the house served as background noise to his meditation. After awhile a silence descended. He opened his eyes and looked around. She was no where in sight. Fear started to grow in his gut. He worried that she had tried to take off. He pulled himself up grimacing against the stabbing pain in his back. In the hallway, he heard her or thought he did. Sounds of crying came from a bedroom. He looked in the door and saw her in the light reflected from the hallway sitting cross legged on the floor in the midst of overturned drawers, old sweaters and other apparel strewn around her. Tears were streaming down her face. Sobs hiccupped from her heaving chest.

"Sara. Honey, what's wrong?" He whispered from the doorway.

She looked up and saw him. She squeezed her eyes shut and waved him away. Grissom stayed rooted to his spot. He spoke softly to her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. You deserve so much better."

She dropped her head into her hands and let sobs rack her slight frame.

Grissom thought better of turning on the light in the room. He walked up to the bedroom and used it to anchor himself as he lowered himself to the ground beside her. Tentatively, he reached over and lightly stroked her back. "Making you so sad is the worst thing I've ever done."

She elbowed his arm away from her. "Do they think this is funny? Trapping me in a house with you. Do they think this is a joke?" She rubbed at her wet face.

"To be fair, Sara, I think they care very much. I just don't think they thought this through." He sat beside her, but was careful to give her space.

"I'm this pathetic woman who just wouldn't give up. And everyone has been watching this for years. Why do I do this to myself? What's wrong with me?" Her words came out in fits and starts.

"You are not pathetic. You are lovely and stubborn, and I don't know anyone who sees it otherwise." Without touching her, he talked low and close to her ear.

"Why do I love you? I don't understand it anymore." She looked at him with his large, wet eyes.

Grissom felt a deep sadness grow in him. He reached over and stroked the tears from her cheek. "I don't know. I just know that I am a very lucky and stupid man."

She brushed away his hand and spoke in a low voice. "Don't feel sorry for me, Grissom."

He caught her arm and held it. "I'm not capable of it. How do you feel sorry for someone who you love so dearly?"

She shook her head. "Don't, please. It's just so confusing."

He pulled her stiff, struggling form over, and hugged her tightly. "None of this is your fault. You fell for a man lost to his own emotions. I don't why I'm that way. Maybe it hurt too badly when my father left. I don't remember it like that, but I don't have another explanation. But all of this hasn't stopped me from loving you in my heart." She stopped struggling and lay her head on his chest. He pushed her hair off her face, and began stroking her cheek. "I worry that I can't do right by you, and because of that, I am afraid to try."

She nestled her face into his neck, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching down for her lips. She whispered into his skin. "Gil, I can't be in this ambiguous place anymore. The angst between what you want to do and what you can do is too much for me. I'm done. I won't ever ask another thing of you. If you want me, it's your turn." She raised her face and looked into his eyes.

"I want you." His voice was low and raspy. His hand slid down behind her neck and pulled her to him. His kiss was crushing and she fought for air. She pulled away from his face and studied his eyes. "This is more than just a moment in time, Grissom. Can you handle that?"

For a long moment they stayed like this, and then Grissom reached again. This time he took his time, kissing her gently, moving from her mouth across her cheek to her ear. She smiled at his soft, insistent kisses, and then pulled his mouth back to hers, biting his lower lip. For a long time, they sat like this, against an old oak dresser, making out like a couple of teen-agers. His kisses fell lower and lower below her collarbone and she began to giggle. "Always wondered what was going on under there, haven't you?" She reached around her middle and began to pull up her shirt. He stopped her, replacing her hands with his. Her cotton top slid easily over her arms and off. He smiled at her, and reached his hands around her back. She was surprised at his dexterity, her bra coming off almost immediately. His touch was gentle and sweet, and she let him explore. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I am thinking that you, myself, and my back could find somewhere a little more comfortable to continue this."

With no sense of embarrassment, she stood up shirtless and helped him to his feet. Taking his hand, she led him into the bedroom they knew. He laid down gently on the bed, and she lay beside him. Grissom ran his hands up and down her torso, and she stared at him, eyes wide. "There's no going back now, Gil."

He shook his head. "I wouldn't want to."

She slid away from him, and headed into the bathroom.

"Sara?" he called after her.

Her voice came floating out. "How many condoms will you be needing tonight? 17, 18. Will we have enough to last us the whole weekend?"

………………………………...

TBC


	12. chapter 12

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

Sorry it took so long. Been very, very busy. Still, it is a pleasure to get back to this. This is the second to last chapter. I hope to have fun with the last chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Sheila

**No Rest for the Weary**

**Chapter 12**

He woke in daylight. Sun streamed in through the bedroom window. He felt the out of body calm of the totally relaxed. His limbs stayed numb and limp. It was amazing. The first time in months he didn't feel pain and stiffness when he woke. It reminded him of a time twenty years ago when he had his first full body massage and in the process of working all of his tense muscles, he started crying. Not from pain, but from the release of all the pent-up stress. It was last time he had ever gone in for a massage.

Memories flooded his brain and he breathed in deeply. He swung his arm along the bed looking for the woman who brought him to this peace. He found nothing but empty bed. He raised himself up and looked around the room. It was empty. He pulled himself up, and walked out into the living room. He found her there on the couch, knees drawn up to her chin. He slowly sat down beside her. She rubbed her lips together, but said nothing.

"So, you do not have the look of the truly satisfied." Grissom ventured.

"I'm trying to piece together what happened last night."

He smiled. "If I recall, the liquor was already down the sink before we got active. I am assuming you were clear-headed."

"I was crying. You came and apologized to me. Felt bad for me. Had sex with me. Then we fell asleep. Is that about right?" Her eyes flickered in his direction.

"Hmm. Not really how I remember it." He relaxed against the back of the couch, stretching his arm out across the top.

"Grissom, if we can't find honesty in this moment, then we are truly lost." Her dark eyes were staring at him intensely.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he met her gaze. After a moment, he reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She caught his hand and held it. "Please." She said.

"I didn't feel sorry for you, and I didn't have sex with you either."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't play games with me."

"Did you hear me get upset last night? Was I rifling drawers and pouring alcohol down the drain?"

She shook her head.

"I was annoyed certainly. I don't like surprises. But I also felt a sense of excitement. How could I help it? You and I alone together for three days; how could that not be a dream come true."

"You confuse me, Grissom."

"I have wished for another opportunity. I wanted to try. I just didn't want to hurt you again."

"Don't talk in circles."

He squeezed her hand. "Pay attention, Sara."

She worried her lips with her teeth.

"I didn't have sex with you. I made love to you. And I can't tell you how long I have wanted to do that." His voice was a whisper.

She smiled at him while her eyes reddened.

"I'm a mess, Sara. No doubt about it. But I will do whatever is necessary. I will listen to you, and I will tell you what I'm feeling. I promise to move beyond who I am."

Her long legs relaxed and she folded them behind her, reaching forward to him. She reached up with her free hand and stroked his beard. "I don't understand it, but I want you very much."

He reached up and tenderly kissed the hand on his face. "So, how'd we do last night?"

"I think I saw fireworks several times or did I feel them? I can't remember."

"How's the condom depletion situation?"

"We're down two. It means we have a mere 34 left, and only 37 hours 42 minutes within which to use them."

"Roughly one condom per every hour and 6.53 minutes."

"Yes, clearly you will have to restrain yourself at times as we have no ability to acquire more." She swung a bare foot around and began to stroke his thigh.

"Well, we have the shower curtain you tore up. That and a little duct tape. But…only if we have no other options."

She laughed and pulled him on top of her. "Come here, Tiger. Let's get back to work. We have a schedule to keep." She began nibbling on a spot behind his ear. Then she traced a line to his ear with her tongue and whispered. "The shower curtain idea is definitely out. Understood? You're going to just have to pace yourself there, big guy."

………………………………...

Grissom opened the door and found Jim Brass standing on the doorstep. He raised an eyebrow at him. "Our incarceration still has another 32 hours. What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, about that. See I was telling Doc Robins about our great plan and how clever we were and everything, and he ventures to ask if I remembered to leave your vicodin with you. And I said I didn't, and the man swung his crutch at my head. And I'm telling that they might be lightweight aluminum, but those things really pack a wallop, you know. So I am here, hat in hand with your medication."

Brass thrust a paper bag at him. Grissom took it and unrolled the top. "Our shoes?"

"Yeah, taking the shoes seemed to be a little over the top so I am returning those as well. And, hell, I'm ready to take you both home if you want to go. Stupid idea, really."

Grissom looked behind him for a moment, and then turned back to Brass, speaking in a whisper. "She's in the shower right now so keep it down. But I think we'll stay a little longer, okay?"

Brass' face erupted in a big grin. "You dog!"

Grissom shushed him and waved him away. Brass jumped off the stoop and winked at him. Grissom winced a little, but then a smile spread over his features. He followed Brass outside. "Hey, Jim. I'm going to need you to do one more thing. Remember those condoms you brought?"

"Yeah, think you got enough?" Brass leered at him.

"Actually that's the problem. I think we're going to need more."

Brass' smile faded. "What are you doing? Making balloon animals with 'em."

Nonchalantly, Grissom responded. "No, their purpose is being put to good use. We just need more than you brought. Could you run out and grab another dozen, say. Maybe 18, just in case."

"Funny, Gil. You are a funny man." Brass was glaring.

"Well, you do owe us. And it was such a good idea for you to bring them in the first place. Um, just leave them in a bag at the door in case we are…busy. Thanks Jim." With that, he turned and strolled back into the house, trying to control the grin spreading his cheeks. It didn't matter how smart a man was or what he thought he knew. It had been Grissom's experience that the mere suggestion of another's prowess was enough to unsettle the most practical of men. He fished the vicodin out of the bag, stepped on the garbage peddle, and dropped it in the trash.

Brass stared at the closed door for a long time, shaking his head and mumbling, 'not possible' over and over again.

………………………………...

"He suggested we were making balloon animals with them?" Sara laughed as she followed him up another hill. The sun was starting to settle into the horizon, but the heat of the desert was still floating around them, and she was surprised that he wanted to take a walk through these hills.

"So I told him to get us some more." Grissom looked back at her and winked.

"Think he will?"

"Are you kidding? Men love to live vicariously through their friends. He can't help himself. I bet there will be a drugstore bag on the front step when we get back."

"You're cruel, you know that?" she said, flashing him a smile.

He shrugged. "Hey! What goes around, comes around."

He reached back and extended a hand to her, pulling her up the last part of the hill. She stood at the top and admired the soft hues the setting sun cast on the dusty hills. She turned to take it all in, and saw a creek, small but insistent. It's current was so gentle she could hear nothing from it but the faint song of a bubbling brook. She looked at Grissom for a moment, but couldn't read him. So she grabbed brush for leverage and pulled herself down the hill until she stood at the edge of the stream. She slipped her sandals off, and stepped cautiously into the cool water. At its deepest, it only came halfway up to her knee. For a long time, she stood in the middle, staring down at the water swirling around her ankles.

"It has been only two months since we were last here." She looked up to find Grissom sitting on the bank.

"Seems like a lifetime," she replied.

"Can you believe that something this gentle killed two people?"

"Why are we here?"

"You didn't call to me when the branch broke. I could have done something, but you didn't say anything."

She blinked hard. "It was cold. I..I must have been in shock."

"You were, and still you made a conscious decision."

She looked back down at her feet for a long moment. "You couldn't have done anything. The current was too strong. You had Elizabeth."

Grissom nodded. "We do this, you and I. We protect each other from ourselves."

"Would it have been better if we both died?"

"You almost did, and I spent an entire night believing you were. I have never had a more painful experience in my entire life. Breaking my back was a walk in the park in comparison. You could break my back a hundred more times before I would ever agree to reliving that night."

The passion in his voice rocked her. She breathed in sharply. "I'm sorry."

Grissom folded his glasses into his lap. "Sara, we need to trust ourselves with one another. I have to stop protecting you from me, and, as I've discovered, you need to do the same. Your foray into the drug world would be another example of this."

Sara stared off into the distance.

"I've put years of effort into the notion that I can't be emotionally intimate with a woman. Now there's you, and I have to deconstruct that idea. This is going to take some work."

She turned her head to him. "Too much work?"

"Nothing worth doing is easy, Sara. Understand?"

She slowly waded out of the stream and sat on the bank beside him. He reached over and held her hand.

"I know how to make a balloon poodle." She cocked her head at him.

"Not bad. I tried when I was a kid, but I could never get the back legs and tail right."

She brought her other hand up. "It's all in the wrist, Gil."

He brought her hand up to his face and kissed it. "You called me Gil the first time when you were in the water handing me Elizabeth."

"Maybe I call you Gil when I'm feeling brave."

He smiled at her. "I like that, Sara. You feeling brave. We need that with each other, you and I."

The color on her face rose.

"You feel like showing me that thing with your wrist." He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in. Sara snuggled her face into his neck.

"Should we make something for Brass? A balloon poodle maybe?" she murmured into his skin.

"Naw. He's having too much fun with this. Let his imagination run wild."

………………………………...

TBC


	13. chapter 13

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of CBS, inc.

Spoiler: Ghosts

Well, I have reached the end. I hope this last chapter makes you chuckle just a little. It was fun to write. I am going to miss this story, but I need to focus on some other things for a little while. Knowing me though, I probably will be back before too long. Your feedback has made it all worthwhile. Thank you so much.

Sheila

No Rest for the Weary

Chapter 13

"You really are a good sport, Grissom. You know that?" Brass was patting him on the back. "Seriously, you could have been very annoyed with us, but, instead, here you are, treating all of us to a nice dinner."

Grissom gave a lazy smile. "I hate to admit it, but you were right. Sara and I just needed a little rest and relaxation. It was a great opportunity for us to resolve our issues. Right, Sara?"

"Right Grissom." Sara sat across from him smiling big, the remains of a trout dinner in front of her.

Catherine looked at both of them as one might at Wimbledon, back and forth. "Do I know you people?"

Sara wore a surprised look. "We just thought it would be nice to get together with our friends and tell you all how much we have appreciated your support."

"Right," said Catherine, "And next you'll be organizing birthday celebrations and secret santa groups at Christmas."

"Well, Catherine, I, for one, am happy to be a part of this gathering. I don't think we socialize nearly as often as we could." Nick was working on a sirloin steak. He picked up his steak knife and pointed it at Grissom. "I tell ya, Gris. I didn't know you had it in you. Really. Good to see a smile on my girl's face."

Warrick reached over and rubbed the back of Sara's neck. "It is very nice to see you happy."

"Thanks." She hugged him.

Grissom looked down at his watch. "Well, it's getting to be that time. Sara and I are due in to the lab in an hour." He gestured at a passing waiter.

"Hell, Grissom. You're not picking up the whole thing. We'll pitch in." Brass started digging in his jacket. Grissom grabbed his arm abruptly. Catherine's eyebrows lifted.

"Sorry, Jim. It's the least I can do." Grissom took the offered check and slipped a card inside. He gestured at Sara, and she got up, smiling, and deposited her napkin on her plate.

"Hey Griss. These guys aren't ready to leave." She cocked her head at him.

"Of course. Sorry about that. I'll tell the waiter to hold the card open for another round of drinks and some dessert. How's that sound, Honey?"

"Perfect!"

"Jim, I'll arrange for you to sign for me." Grissom put his coat on.

Catherine looked at him with her mouth open. Jim made some more protests, but, in the end, he relaxed and ordered a bourbon neat. Sara linked arms with Grissom, and together they walked out. As they passed the reservations desk, Grissom leaned over to her ear and said, "You got the last one with that hug, right?" She winked at him and he smiled.

………………………………...

"You guys didn't think that was strange?" Catherine looked around at her colleagues. Two cheesecakes, a chocolate cake, and a tiramisu lay in ruins on the table.

"Griss was feeling generous. He's picked up tabs before." Nicky said.

"Tell me that Saccharine sweet doesn't come to mind when you think of his demeanor tonight?"

Nick raised his hands. "I don't know. He's probably getting some, and that might be part of it."

She wrinkled her face at him. That's just gross, Nick."

Warrick chuckled and pulled Catherine's chocolate cake over to his plate.

"Well, I for one, believe that this is the dawning of a new day. Hell has frozen over and they're throwing snowballs. That, and Grissom has turned into a squishy, romantic teddy bear." Brass downed the last of his bourbon. The waiter passed by and Brass asked him for the check to sign. The waiter gave him an odd look and walked off.

"I'm just happy someone's getting some these days." Warrick mumbled with cake in his mouth. Catherine turned to him, eyes wide.

"Oh right, Warrick. You're not getting any? If Nike had an ad campaign in Playboy, you'd be their star athlete."

Nicky sputtered in his beer.

"Ah, yes. Nothing like drinks and inappropriate sexual banter between a supervisor and her staff. Perfect end to a perfect evening." Brass sat back and smiled broadly. The waiter came back and whispered something into his ear. Brass' brow furled and he started talking to the waiter in hushed tones. Then Brass threw back his head and laughed. He took the bill from the waiter and nodded, sending the waiter away.

"What was that?" Catherine asked.

"You were right, Cath. He had a card up his sleeve. Paid for dinner with his library card." Brass displayed the card for all to see. "I suppose we deserved it. How about we split this four ways?"

Everyone reached for their wallets. Brass began rifling his pockets. Across the table, Nicky had a concerned look on his face as he searched his jacket. Catherine turned her purse upside on the table.

"I can't find my wallet." Warrick was the first to complain.

"I know it's in here someplace. I had it in the bathroom with me. I opened it to show Sara a new picture of Lindsay."

"Second damn time I've been mugged this year." Nicky growled.

"Right. So you think we all just got mugged? All four of us?" Brass surveyed his colleagues.

"Grissom pick pocketed us: him and his little girlfriend." Catherine's eyes were flashing.

"How much is that bill?"

"Well, 'Rick. You got a spare 400 in your pocket?"

Warrick whistled and shook his head.

"That's okay. A badge still comes in handy around here." Brass motioned for the waiter again, and dug through this jacket. The waiter came over. "Okay, our friend played a little joke on us. Said he was paying for dinner and then slipped you a library card So, we are happy to pick up the tab except that our friends also seemed to have taken our wallets." Brass stopped talking while he emptied all of his pockets.

"I am Captain Jim Brass with Vegas Homicide, and I would be happy to show you my badge except it too seems to have been pilfered. I've been in town many years and have certainly eaten at your fine establishment on several occasions."

The waiter shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Look! Do we seem like criminals to you?" Catherine asked, glaring at the young man.

"I'm a….going go get the manager." He disappeared.

Time passed. Conversation at the table had trickled down to sharp retorts and impatient replies. At fifteen minutes, Brass stood up. "I'm going to go find this manager. Straighten this thing out."

As he got up, the manager emerged and asked them all to follow him.

"We are about to get an apology for this nonsense." Brass assured them. They followed the manager into an empty banquet room. He motioned for them to take seats. Behind him, two cops strolled into the room.

"Hey fellas! Jim Brass, Homicide. Sure glad you guys are here."

The two cops looked at each other with frowns.

"They don't know you?" Warrick asked.

"Vegas has 900 employees in law enforcement. I do not know all of them." Brass spoke with an edge of agitation.

"Heard of Jim Brass?" One said to the other. "Ever seen him?"

"I think he's the tall one with the mustache. Blonde hair I think. Worked one of his crime scenes if I remember."

"Come on. I'm Jim Brass."

"Sorry Jimmy. The con's up."

"Jimmy?" Brass' voice rose. "Only person who calls me Jimmy is a 95 year old woman living in a retirement home in Trenton, New Jersey."

"So you are from Jersey?"

"Why?"

The cop produced an alert. "Got this two days ago. Said we should be looking for a short man, your description, goes by the name, Jimmy 'three fingers' Marinara. Small time hood. Ran numbers for the Gambino family out of Newark."

"Right! Ah, guys, you are the butt of a little joke. Heard of a guy named Grissom out of the crime lab. Well, he invited us-"

"Well, Jimmy, maybe you're the butt of a joke. Says here that you're wanted in three states for petty theft and grand larceny. Says you are wanted for impersonating a cop on two other occasions as well."

"Listen Officers. I'm Catherine Willows with the crime lab. I can vouch for Jim. This is all just a practical joke."

The officers huddled over the flyer and looked up at Catherine. "Says here that Jimmy 'Fingers' runs with a woman named Daisy Mae Broadstreet AKA Cat Pussywillows. She fits your description to a tee. One time exotic dancer. You're wanted for conning old men out of their pensions."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Can you show us some ID, Daisy Mae?"

"My name is Catherine Willows, and my wallet has been stolen by Gil Grissom of the Las Vegas crime lab. And I want to file a report."

"Isn't that the bug man?" One cop asked the other.

The other cop rolled his eyes at her. "Listen Daisy Mae or Pussy Cat or whatever you are calling yourself this week, we know who Gil Grissom is and he most definitely is not running with your crowd."

"We have his library card." Warrick announced, extending the card to them.

The cops took the card, pored over it, and returned their attention to the alert sheet. At one point they discussed whether theft of a library card could be charged. Then they finally looked back at Warrick. "We presume that you are Mr. Nipsy McClintock, common law husband of Daisy Mae. Wanted for running shell games up and down the east coast."

"What!" Warrick roared.

Nick erupted in laughter. "Looks like they got your number there, Nipsy."

Spying Nick, the officers returned to their alert. One of them pointed at him. "You must be Beauregard 'TexMex' Abernathy: one time rodeo clown, currently wanted for three counts of robbery. Robbed three different 7-11's in Plano, Texas with an exacto knife. Got away with a grand total of 143.95. Real big time crook there, TexMex."

Nick groaned. "Come on, fellas. You don't believe this fiction, do you?"

"The paperwork doesn't lie, and there's not one thing I'm hearing out of you jokers that's got me thinking otherwise."

"All right, the jig is up, guys." Brass clapped his hands "This nice officers have caught us with our pants down. This is our high noon. Let's cooperate now so they can take us down to the station. It is time for us to pay our debt to society." Brass was sure that he would be able to snag several people there who could straighten this out. He put his hands out for the cuffs. He gestured to his colleagues to do the same. Catherine gave him a good, hard look before extending her hands. One of the officers took a little extra time with her, giving her a wink and a grin. She rolled her eyes in response. Then he turned to Warrick.

"Hey Nipsy! Why common law? She's a looker. How come you never managed to put a ring on her finger, huh? A little gunshy there, Nips?" Warrick closed his eyes as his dignity got kicked around on the floor in front of him. Brass could sense a potential explosion and stepped in.

"Hey guys. Clearly, Nipsy is not in the mood to talk. You want to hear about my days with the Gambinos. Maybe get a little leg up on the feds. Happy to oblige. I once saw the housekeeper extort ground beef out of a butcher: three pounds of 90 premium lean." One officer narrowed his eyes at him. "Okay? Either that or I'm sure that TexMex would be happy to show some of the scars from his days with the rodeo. I hear he's got a great one on his ass in the shape of Abe Lincoln."

Nick glared at Brass. "Hey guys, wanna know how Jimmy got the name, 'three fingers'? Great story."

Catherine caught the spirit of something in Brass' eye. Suppressing a grin, she came up to Warrick, her hands cuffed in front of her. "Come on, Nipsy. I want to sit next to you in the squad car. Jimmy and Beauregard are going to have one of their little disagreements, and I am not in the mood. Besides, it will give us time to discuss the new window treatments I want to get for our bedroom. I'm still hooked on the floral patterns."

Warrick let a smile cautiously spread across his face. "So you're vetoing the NASCAR theme?"

"Yes, Pumpkin. But I think that I can let you have the Star Trek theme for the bathroom."

"With the Worf toilet seat?" Warrick let his voice raise a little.

"And the Uhuru shower curtain. But I am saying no to the Captain Kirk soap dispenser."

"Why, Sugar plum?"

"There's just something about pumping Captain Kirk into my palm that I find unsettling."

"Never thought of it that way, Passion flower."

Catherine giggled at this last endearment and nudged him through the door.

"You want me to tell them about what a tightwad you are, Beauregard?

"Hey, Jimmy. How 'bout I tell them about how we wouldn't be in this mess if you weren't such a nosy butinsky?" Nick was straining against the officer. Brass smirked at him.

"Separate squad cars for these two?" Asked one officer.

"Yeah, I'll call for back-up."

………………………………...

Sara watched him from across the lab. He was intent on a research journal at his desk. As usual, he had only his desk lamp on, and so his office looked rather dark and cavelike. He didn't move, but she noticed many things about him. She watched how he licked his thumb every time he turned a page. And then he would reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose every few minutes. She could tell he was getting tired. It had been a busy shift, but it felt good to be back in the thick of things.

She kept looking around with more than a little bit of nervousness. At four a.m. Grissom had sent Greg over to the fifth precinct to make sure the gang was properly bailed out. Grissom gave Greg only enough information for Greg to gather that the moods of his colleagues would be precarious to say the least. Greg gave Grissom his best glare before he left. That had been two hours ago, and Sara wondered if they would be coming back for a little revenge.

She looked up again at Grissom and was surprised to see him staring back at her, his glasses perched on the end of his nose. She blushed a little in spite of herself. He gestured with his head. She looked around to see that everyone else was otherwise occupied, and then sauntered over as coolly as she could manage to his office. She leaned against his doorframe and gave him a lazy smile.

"We don't really know how to do this yet, do we?"

She dropped her head for a moment and bit her lip. "I don't think this is easy in the most normal of relationships, Griss."

"When do we see each other? How do we make it happen?"

"We talk and we tell each other what we want, what we need."

"And we tell each other the truth."

"Always." She had a hard time meeting his eyes.

He hesitated. Then gave her a nervous smile. "I want to see you today. I want to bring you home with me."

The color rose on her neck. "I don't have clothes with me…to change into."

"What do you need clothes for?" He cocked his head at her.

She looked around anxiously, but found her co-workers busy working. "What about breakfast?"

"I have eggs, toast, juice, and fruit."

She nodded, her mouth felt dry. "You sure that our friends aren't going to want to have a little talk with us."

He chuckled. "I called an hour ago. Brass was having the time of his life. Insisted that he had vital information about the Gambinos and wanted them to call in the feds. Warrick and Catherine were arguing over colors for somebody's kitchen, and Nick had made friends with two working girls in the next cell. Greg was having trouble getting them to leave. I think we're all going to be just fine."

"Well in that case," she began in a husky voice. "I think we probably better do some work on our condom depletion project. We really can't let something like that fall by the wayside."

"I concur." He nodded.

She swallowed. "So, your house, one hour."

He smiled wide, his eyes twinkling. "I think we're getting the hang of this communication business just fine, don't you?"

………………………………...

The End


End file.
